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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Representative Plays by American
+Dramatists: 1856-1911: The New York Idea, by Langdon Mitchell
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Representative Plays by American Dramatists: 1856-1911: The New York Idea
+
+Author: Langdon Mitchell
+
+Editor: Montrose J. Moses
+
+Release Date: May 23, 2008 [EBook #25565]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REPRESENTATIVE PLAYS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Starner, Diane Monico, and The Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW YORK IDEA
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: LANGDON MITCHELL]
+
+
+
+
+LANGDON MITCHELL
+
+(Born Philadelphia, Pa., February 17, 1862)
+
+
+The performance of "The New York Idea" at the Lyric Theatre, New York,
+on November 19, 1906, was one of the rare, distinguished events in the
+American Theatre. It revealed the fact that at last an American
+playwright had written a drama comparable with the very best European
+models, scintillating with clear, cold brilliancy, whose dialogue
+carried with it an exceptional literary style. It was a play that
+showed a vitality which will serve to keep it alive for many
+generations, which will make it welcome, however often it is revived;
+for there is a universal import to its satire which raises it above
+the local, social condition it purports to portray. And though there
+is nothing of an ideal character about its situations, though it seems
+to be all head, with a minimum of apparent heart, it none the less is
+universal in the sense that Restoration comedy is universal. It
+presents a type of vulgarity, of sporting spirit, that is common in
+every generation, whether in the time of Congreve and Wycherley,
+whether in the period of Sheridan or Oscar Wilde. Its wit is not
+dependent on local colour, though ostensibly it is written about New
+York. On its first presentment, it challenged good writing on the part
+of the critics. High Comedy always does that--tickles the brain and
+stimulates it, drives it at a pace not usually to be had in the
+theatre. Is it comedy or is it farce, the critics queried? Is Mr.
+Mitchell sincere, and does he flay the evil he so photographically
+portrays? Does he treat the sacred subject of matrimony too
+flippantly? And should the play, in order to be effective, have a
+moral tag, or should it be, what on the surface it appears to be, a
+series of realistic scenes about people whom one cannot admire and
+does not want to know intimately? Some of the writers found the
+picture not to their liking--that is the effect good satire sometimes
+has when it strikes home. Yet when Grace George revived "The New York
+Idea" in a spirit so different from Mrs. Fiske's, nine years after, on
+September 28, 1915, at the Playhouse, New York, the _Times_ was bound
+to make the following confession: "A vast array of American authors
+have turned out plays innumerable, but not one of them has quite
+matched in sparkling gayety and wit this work of Langdon Mitchell's.
+And the passing years have left its satire still pointed. They have
+not dimmed its polish nor so much as scratched its smart veneer."
+
+The play was written expressly for Mrs. Fiske. Its hard, sharp
+interplay of humour was knowingly cut to suit her hard, sharp method
+of acting. Her interpretation was a triumph of head over heart. Grace
+George tried to read into _Cynthia Karslake_ an element of romance
+which is suggested in the text, but which was somewhat
+over-sentimentalized by her soft portrayal. There is some element of
+relationship between "The New York Idea" and Henry Arthur Jones' "Mary
+Goes First;" there is the same free air of sporting life, so
+graphically set forth in "Lord and Lady Algy." But the American play
+is greater than these because of its impersonal strain.
+
+In a letter to the present Editor, Mr. Mitchell has broken silence
+regarding the writing of "The New York Idea." Never before has he
+tried to analyze its evolution. He says:
+
+    The play was written for Mrs. Fiske. The choice of subject
+    was mine. I demanded complete freedom in the treatment, and
+    my most wise manager, Mr. Harrison Grey Fiske, accorded this.
+    The play was produced and played as written, with the
+    exception of one or two short scenes, which were not
+    acceptable to Mrs. Fiske; that is, she felt, or would have
+    felt, somewhat strained or unnatural in these scenes.
+    Accordingly, I cut them out, or rather rewrote them. The
+    temperament of the race-horse has to be considered--much
+    more, that of the 'star'.
+
+    When I was writing the play, I had really no idea of
+    satirizing divorce or a law or anything specially
+    temperamental or local. What I wanted to satirize was a
+    certain extreme frivolity in the American spirit and in our
+    American life--frivolity in the deep sense--not just a girl's
+    frivolity, but that profound, sterile, amazing frivolity
+    which one observes and meets in our churches, in political
+    life, in literature, in music; in short, in every department
+    of American thought, feeling and action. The old-fashioned,
+    high-bred family in "The New York Idea" are solemnly
+    frivolous, and the fast, light-minded, highly intelligent
+    hero and heroine are frivolous in their own delightful
+    way--frivolity, of course, to be used for tragedy or comedy.
+    Our frivolity is, I feel, on the edge of the tragic. Indeed,
+    I think it entirely tragic, and there are lines, comedy
+    lines, in "The New York Idea," that indicate this aspect of
+    the thing.
+
+    Of course, there is more than merely satire or frivolity in
+    the play: there is the Englishman who appears to Americans to
+    be stupid on account of his manner, but who is frightfully
+    intelligent; and there are also the energy and life and vigor
+    of the two men characters. There is, too, throughout the
+    play, the conscious humour of these two characters, and of
+    the third woman, _Vida_. The clergyman is really more
+    frivolous often and far less conscious of his
+    frivolity--enough, that I rather thought one of the strongest
+    things about the play was the consciousness of their own
+    humour, of the three important characters.
+
+    The characters were selected from that especial class, or
+    set, in our Society, whose ancestors and traditions go back
+    to colonial times. They are not merely _society_ characters,
+    for, of course, people in society may lack all traditions. I
+    mention this merely because my selection of characters from
+    such a set of people gives the play a certain mellowness and
+    a certain air which it otherwise would not have. If _Jack_
+    and _Cynthia_ were both completely self-made, or the son and
+    daughter of powerful, self-made people, their tone could not
+    be the same.
+
+    The piece was played in England as a farce; and it was given
+    without the permission of the author or American manager. It
+    was given for a considerable number of performances in
+    Berlin, after the Great War began. In the German translation
+    it was called "Jonathan's Daughter."[A] Our relations with
+    Germany at the time were strained on account of 'certain
+    happenings', but, notwithstanding, the play was
+    extraordinarily well received.
+
+When "The New York Idea" was first published by the Walter Baker Co.,
+of Boston, it carried as an introduction a notice of the play written
+by William Archer, and originally published in the London _Tribune_ of
+May 27, 1907. This critique follows the present foreword, as its use
+in the early edition represents Mr. Mitchell's choice.
+
+The writing of "The New York Idea" was not Mr. Mitchell's first
+dramatic work for Mrs. Fiske. At the New York Fifth Avenue Theatre, on
+September 12, 1899, she appeared in "Becky Sharp," his successful
+version of Thackeray's "Vanity Fair," which held the stage for some
+time, and was later revived with considerable renewal of its former
+interest. Two years after, rival versions were presented in London,
+one by David Balsillie (Theatre Royal, Croydon, June 24, 1901) and the
+other by Robert Hichens and Cosmo Gordon Lennox (Prince of Wales's
+Theatre, August 27, 1901)--the latter play used during the existence
+of the New Theatre (New York). Most of Mr. Mitchell's attempts in
+play-writing have been in dramatization, first of his father's "The
+Adventures of François," and later of Thackeray's "Pendennis,"
+Atlantic City, October 11, 1916. He was born February 17, 1862, at
+Philadelphia, the son of Silas Weir Mitchell, and received his
+education largely abroad. He studied law at Harvard and Columbia, and
+was admitted to the bar in 1882. He was married, in 1892, to Marion
+Lea, of London, whose name was connected with the early introduction
+of Ibsen to the English public; she was in the initial cast of "The
+New York Idea," and to her the play is dedicated.
+
+
+MR. WILLIAM ARCHER'S NOTICE OF
+"THE NEW YORK IDEA."
+
+    ... This play, too, I was unable to see, but I have read it
+    with extraordinary interest. It is a social satire so largely
+    conceived and so vigorously executed that it might take an
+    honourable place in any dramatic literature. We have nothing
+    quite like it on the latter-day English stage. In tone and
+    treatment it reminds one of Mr. Carton; but it is far broader
+    in conception and richer in detail than "Lord and Lady Algy"
+    or "Lady Huntworth's Experiment." In France, it might perhaps
+    be compared to "La Famille Benoiton" or "Le Monde ou l'on
+    s'ennuie," or better, perhaps, to a more recent, but now
+    almost forgotten satire of the 'nineties, "Paris
+    Fin-de-Siècle."
+
+    I find it very hard to classify "The New York Idea" under any
+    of the established rubrics. It is rather too extravagant to
+    rank as a comedy; it is much too serious in its purport, too
+    searching in its character-delineation and too thoughtful in
+    its wit, to be treated as a mere farce. Its title--not,
+    perhaps, a very happy one--is explained in this saying of one
+    of the characters: "Marry for whim and leave the rest to the
+    divorce court--that's the New York idea of marriage." And
+    again: "The modern American marriage is like a wire
+    fence--the woman's the wire--the posts are the husbands.
+    One--two--three! And if you cast your eye over the future,
+    you can count them, post after post, up hill, down dale, all
+    the way to Dakota."
+
+    Like all the plays, from Sardou's "Divorçons" onward, which
+    deal with a too facile system of divorce, this one shows a
+    discontented woman, who has broken up her home for a caprice,
+    suffering agonies of jealousy when her ex-husband proposes
+    to make use of the freedom she has given him, and returning
+    to him at last with the admission that their divorce was at
+    least "premature." In this central conception there is
+    nothing particularly original. It is the wealth of humourous
+    invention displayed in the details both of character and
+    situation that renders the play remarkable.
+
+    It is interesting to note, by the way, a return on Mr.
+    Mitchell's part to that convenient assumption of the
+    Restoration and eighteenth century comedy writers that any
+    one in holy orders could solemnize a legal marriage at any
+    time or place, without the slightest formality of banns,
+    witnesses, registration or anything of the sort. One gathers
+    that in New York the entrance to and the exit from the holy
+    estate of matrimony are equally prompt and easy; or that, as
+    one of the characters puts it, "the church is a regular
+    quick-marriage counter."
+
+    I presume there is some exaggeration in this, and that a
+    marriage cannot actually be celebrated at midnight, over a
+    champagne-and-lobster supper, by a clergyman who happened to
+    drop in. But there can be no doubt that whatever the social
+    merits or demerits of the system, facility of divorce and
+    remarriage is an immense boon to the dramatist. It places
+    within his reach an inexhaustible store of situations and
+    complications which are barred to the English playwright, to
+    whom divorce always means an ugly and painful scandal. The
+    moralist may insist that this ought always to be the case;
+    and indeed that is the implication which Mr. Mitchell, as a
+    moralist, conveys to us.
+
+    He sacrifices the system of divorce for every trivial flaw of
+    temper which prevails in the society he depicts; but he no
+    doubt realizes that his doctrine as a satirist is hostile to
+    his interest as a dramatist. Restrict the facilities of
+    divorce and you at once restrict the possibilities of
+    matrimonial comedy. Marriage becomes no longer a comic, but a
+    tragic institution.
+
+    In order to keep his theme entirely on the comic plane, Mr.
+    Mitchell has given no children to either of the two couples
+    whom he puts through such a fantastic quadrille. Law or no
+    law, the separation of its parents is always a tragedy to the
+    child; which is not to say, of course, that their remaining
+    together may not in some cases be the more tragic of the two
+    alternatives. Be this as it may, Mr. Mitchell has eluded the
+    issue.
+
+    Nor has he thereby falsified his problem, for his characters
+    belong to that class of society in which, as Mr. Dooley
+    points out, the multiplication of automobiles is preferred
+    to that of progeny. But he has not omitted to hint at the
+    problem of the children, and, as it were, confess his
+    deliberate avoidance of it. He does so in a touch of
+    exquisite irony. _John_ and _Cynthia Karslake_ are a couple
+    devoted, not to automobiles, but to horses. Even their common
+    passion for racing cannot keep them together; but their
+    divorce is so "premature," and leaves _John_ so restless and
+    dissatisfied, that he actually neglects the cares of the
+    stable. His favourite mare, Cynthia K, falls ill, and when
+    his trainer brings him the news he receives it with shocking
+    callousness. Then the trainer meets _Cynthia_ and complains
+    to her of her ex-husband's indifference. "Ah, ma'am," he
+    says, "when husband and wife splits, it's the horses that
+    suffers." I know not where to look for a speech of profounder
+    ironic implication. More superficial, but still a good
+    specimen of Mr. Mitchell's wit, is _William Sudley's_ remark
+    as to _John Karslake_: "Oh, yes, he comes of a very
+    respectable family, though I remember his father served a
+    term in the Senate."
+
+    Altogether "The New York Idea" is, from the intellectual
+    point of view, the most remarkable piece of work I have
+    encountered in America. It is probably too true to the
+    details of American life to have much success in England; but
+    the situation at the end of the third act could not fail to
+    bring down the house even here. It would take too long to
+    describe it in detail. Suffice it to say that just at the
+    point where _Cynthia Karslake_ dismisses her second
+    bridegroom, to return to her first, the choir assembled for
+    the marriage ceremony, mistaking a signal, bursts forth with
+    irresistibly ludicrous effect into "The Voice That Breathed
+    O'er Eden."[B]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote A: At the Kammerspiel Theatre, Berlin, under the direction
+of Max Reinhardt, October 7, 1916. There are translations in Danish,
+Swedish and Hungarian.]
+
+[Footnote B: _The Editor takes the occasion to express his thanks to
+Mr. William Archer for his kind permission to quote this analysis of
+the play._]
+
+
+
+
+LYRIC THEATRE
+
+REGINALD DeKOVEN,                      Proprietor
+SAM S. and LEE SHUBERT (Inc.),         Lessees and Managers
+
+
+NINTH AND LAST WEEK.
+BEGINNING MONDAY EVENING. JANUARY 14, 1907.
+Matinee Saturday.
+
+
+Under the Direction of HARRISON GREY FISKE
+
+MRS. FISKE
+
+--AND--
+
+THE MANHATTAN COMPANY
+
+Presenting a Play in Four Acts, Entitled
+
+THE NEW YORK IDEA
+
+BY LANGDON MITCHELL
+
+
+Cast of Characters.
+
+Philip Phillimore                                Charles Harbury
+Mrs. Phillimore, his mother                      Ida Vernon
+The Reverend Mathew Phillimore, his brother      Dudley Clinton
+Grace Phillimore, his sister                     Emily Stevens
+Miss Heneage, his aunt                           Blanche Weaver
+William Sudley, his cousin                       Dudley Digges
+Mrs. Vida Phillimore, his divorced wife          Marion Lea
+Brooks, her footman                              Frederick Kerby
+Benson, her maid                                 Belle Bohn
+Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby                          George Arliss
+John Karslake                                    John Mason
+Mrs. Cynthia Karslake, his divorced wife         Mrs. Fiske
+Nogam, his valet                                 James Morley
+Tim Fiddler                                      Robert V. Ferguson
+Thomas, the Phillimore's family servant          Richard Clarke
+
+
+ACT I--Drawing-Room in the Phillimore house. Washington Square.
+          _Wednesday afternoon, at five o'clock._
+
+ACT II--Mrs. Vida Phillimore's Boudoir. Fifth Avenue.
+          _Thursday morning at eleven._
+
+ACT III--Same as Act I.
+          _Thursday evening, at ten._
+
+ACT IV--John Karslake's House. Madison Avenue.
+          _Thursday, at midnight._
+
+Scene--New York                      Time--The Present.
+
+
+The production staged by Mr. and Mrs. Fiske.
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW YORK IDEA
+
+_A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS_
+
+By LANGDON MITCHELL
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY LANGDON MITCHELL
+
+
+[This play, copyrighted in 1907, 1908, and published originally by
+Walter H. Baker and Co., of Boston, Mass., is fully protected and the
+right of representation is reserved. Application for the right of
+performing this play may be made to Alice Kauser, 1402 Broadway, New
+York, N. Y. The Editor takes this opportunity of thanking Mr. Langdon
+Mitchell for his great interest in the compilation of this Collection,
+and for his permission to have "The New York Idea" used in it. The
+complete revision of the stage directions, especially for this volume,
+makes it possible to regard the play, here printed, as the only
+authentic version.]
+
+
+
+
+THE PEOPLE.
+
+
+PHILIP PHILLIMORE, _a Judge on the bench, age 50_.
+GRACE PHILLIMORE, _his sister, age 20_.
+MRS. PHILLIMORE, _his mother, age 70_.
+MISS HENEAGE, _his aunt, age 60_.
+MATTHEW PHILLIMORE, _his brother--a bishop, age 45_.
+WILLIAM SUDLEY, _his cousin, age 50_.
+MRS. VIDA PHILLIMORE, _his divorced wife, age 35_.
+SIR WILFRID CATES-DARBY.
+JOHN KARSLAKE, _lawyer, politician and racing-man, age 35_.
+MRS. CYNTHIA KARSLAKE, _his divorced wife, age 25_.
+BROOKS, MRS. PHILLIMORE'S _footman_.
+TIM FIDDLER, MR. KARSLAKE'S _trainer_.
+NOGAM, _his valet_.
+THOMAS, _the family servant of the_ PHILLIMORES, _age 45_.
+BENSON, MRS. VIDA PHILLIMORE'S _maid, age 20_.
+
+
+The following is the Cast for the evening performance at the Lyric
+Theatre, New York, Monday, November 19, 1906.
+
+PHILIP PHILLIMORE                               Charles Harbury.
+MRS. PHILLIMORE, _his mother_                   Ida Vernon.
+THE REVEREND MATTHEW PHILLIMORE, _his brother_  Dudley Clinton.
+GRACE PHILLIMORE, _his sister_                  Emily Stevens.
+MISS HENEAGE, _his aunt_                        Blanche Weaver.
+WILLIAM SUDLEY, _his cousin_                    William B. Mack.
+MRS. VIDA PHILLIMORE, _his divorced wife_       Marion Lea.
+BROOKS, _her footman_                           George Harcourt.
+BENSON, _her maid_                              Belle Bohn.
+SIR WILFRID CATES-DARBY                         George Arliss.
+JOHN KARSLAKE                                   John Mason.
+MRS. CYNTHIA KARSLAKE, _his divorced wife_      Mrs. Fiske.
+NOGAM, _his valet_                              Dudley Digges.
+TIM FIDDLER                                     Robert V. Ferguson.
+THOMAS, THE PHILLIMORE'S _family servant_       Richard Clarke.
+
+Scene--New York.                                Time--The Present.
+
+
+Revived in New York at The Playhouse, Tuesday Evening, September 28,
+1915, with the following Cast.
+
+PHILIP PHILLIMORE                               Lumsden Hare.
+GRACE PHILLIMORE                                Norah Lamison.
+MRS. PHILLIMORE                                 Eugenie Woodward.
+MISS HENEAGE                                    Josephine Lovett.
+MATTHEW PHILLIMORE                              Albert Reed.
+WILLIAM SUDLEY                                  John Cromwell.
+MRS. VIDA PHILLIMORE                            Mary Nash.
+SIR WILFRID CATES-DARBY                         Ernest Lawford.
+JOHN KARSLAKE                                   Conway Tearle.
+MRS. CYNTHIA KARSLAKE                           Grace George.
+BROOKS                                          Selwyn Joyce.
+TIM FIDDLER                                     Tracy Barrow.
+NOGAM                                           G. Guthrie McClintic.
+THOMAS                                          Richard Clarke.
+BENSON                                          Anita Wood.
+
+
+_To Marion Lea_
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW YORK IDEA
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+    SCENE. _Living-room in the house of_ PHILIP PHILLIMORE.
+    _Five_ P. M. _of an afternoon of May. The general air and
+    appearance of the room is that of an old-fashioned, decorous,
+    comfortable interior. There are no electric lights and no
+    electric bells. Two bell ropes as in old-fashioned houses.
+    The room is in dark tones inclining to sombre and of
+    old-fashioned elegance._
+
+    _Seated in the room are_ MISS HENEAGE, MRS. PHILLIMORE _and_
+    THOMAS. MISS HENEAGE _is a solidly built, narrow-minded woman
+    in her sixties. She makes no effort to look younger than she
+    is, and is expensively but quietly dressed, with heavy
+    elegance. She commands her household and her family
+    connection, and on the strength of a large and steady income
+    feels that her opinion has its value._ MRS. PHILLIMORE _is a
+    semi-professional invalid, refined and unintelligent. Her
+    movements are weak and fatigued. Her voice is habitually
+    plaintive and she is entirely a lady without a trace of being
+    a woman of fashion._ THOMAS _is an easy-mannered, but
+    respectful family servant, un-English both in style and
+    appearance. He has no deportment worthy of being so called,
+    and takes an evident interest in the affairs of the family he
+    serves._
+
+    MISS HENEAGE _is seated at the tea-table, facing the
+    footlights._ MRS. PHILLIMORE _is seated at the table on the
+    right._ THOMAS _stands near by. Tea things on table. Decanter
+    of sherry in coaster. Bread and butter on plate. Vase with
+    flowers. Silver match-box. Large old-fashioned tea urn. Guard
+    for flame. "The Evening Post" on tea-table._ MISS HENEAGE
+    _and_ MRS. PHILLIMORE _both have cups of tea._ MISS HENEAGE
+    _sits up very straight, and pours tea for_ GRACE, _who enters
+    from door. She is a pretty and fashionably dressed girl of
+    twenty. She speaks superciliously, coolly, and not too fast.
+    She sits on the sofa gracefully and without lounging. She
+    wears a gown suitable for spring visiting, hat, parasol, and
+    gloves._
+
+
+GRACE. [_As she moves to the sofa._] I never in my life walked so far
+and found so few people at home. [_Pauses. Takes off gloves. Somewhat
+querulously._] The fact is the nineteenth of May is ridiculously late
+to be in town.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Thomas, Mr. Phillimore's sherry?
+
+THOMAS. [_Indicating the particular table._] The sherry, ma'am.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Mr. Phillimore's _Post_?
+
+THOMAS. [_Pointing to "The Evening Post" on the tea-table._] The
+_Post_, ma'am.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Indicating cup._] Miss Phillimore.
+
+THOMAS _takes cup of tea to_ GRACE. _Silence. They all sip tea._
+THOMAS _goes back, fills sherry glass, remaining round and about the
+tea-table. They all drink tea during their entire conversation._
+
+GRACE. The Dudleys were at home. They wished to know when my brother
+Philip was to be married, and where and how?
+
+MISS HENEAGE. If the Dudleys were persons of breeding, they'd not
+intrude their curiosity upon you.
+
+GRACE. I like Lena Dudley.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Speaking slowly and gently._] Do I know Miss
+Dudley?
+
+GRACE. She knows Philip. She expects an announcement of the wedding.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. I trust you told her that my son, my sister and
+myself are all of the opinion that those who have been divorced should
+remarry with modesty and without parade.
+
+GRACE. I told the Dudleys Philip's wedding was here, to-morrow.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_To_ MRS. PHILLIMORE, _picking up a sheet of paper from
+the table._] I have spent the afternoon, Mary, in arranging and
+listing the wedding gifts, and in writing out the announcements of the
+wedding. I think I have attained a proper form of announcement.
+[_Taking the sheet of note-paper and giving it to_ THOMAS.] Of course
+the announcement Philip himself made was quite out of the question.
+[GRACE _smiles._] However, there is mine. [_She points to the paper._
+THOMAS _gives the list to_ MRS. PHILLIMORE _and moves away._
+
+GRACE. I hope you'll send an announcement to the Dudleys.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Prepared to make the best of things, plaintively
+reads._] "Mr. Philip Phillimore and Mrs. Cynthia Dean Karslake
+announce their marriage, May twentieth, at three o'clock, Nineteen A,
+Washington Square, New York." [_Replacing the paper on_ THOMAS'S
+_salver._] It sounds very nice.
+
+            [THOMAS _returns the paper to_ MISS HENEAGE.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. In my opinion it barely escapes sounding nasty. However,
+it is correct. The only remaining question is--to whom the
+announcement should not be sent. [THOMAS _goes out._] I consider an
+announcement of the wedding of two divorced persons to be in the
+nature of an intimate communication. It not only announces the
+wedding--it also announces the divorce. [_Returning to her teacup._]
+The person I shall ask counsel of is cousin William Sudley. He
+promised to drop in this afternoon.
+
+GRACE. Oh! We shall hear all about Cairo.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. William is judicious. [THOMAS _returns._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_With finality._] Cousin William will disapprove of the
+match unless a winter in Cairo has altered his moral tone.
+
+THOMAS. [_Announcing._] Mr. Sudley.
+
+    _He ushers in_ WILLIAM SUDLEY, _a little oldish gentleman. He
+    is and appears thoroughly insignificant. But his opinion of
+    the place he occupies in the world is enormous. His manners,
+    voice, presence, are all those of a man of breeding and
+    self-importance._
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE _and_ MISS HENEAGE. [_Rising and greeting_ SUDLEY; _a
+little tremulously._] My dear William!
+
+            [THOMAS _withdraws._
+
+SUDLEY. [_Shakes hands with_ MRS. PHILLIMORE, _soberly glad to see
+them._] How d'ye do, Mary? [_Greeting_ MISS HENEAGE.] A very warm May
+you're having, Sarah.
+
+GRACE. [_Coming forward to welcome him._] Dear Cousin William!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Wasn't it warm in Cairo when you left?
+
+    _She will have the strict truth, or nothing; still, on
+    account of_ SUDLEY'S _impeccable respectability, she treats
+    him with more than usual leniency._
+
+SUDLEY. [_Sitting down._] We left Cairo six weeks ago, Grace, so I've
+had no news since you wrote in February that Philip was engaged.
+[_After a pause._] I need not to say I consider Philip's engagement
+excessively regrettable. He is a judge upon the Supreme Court bench
+with a divorced wife--and such a divorced wife!
+
+GRACE. Oh, but Philip has succeeded in keeping everything as quiet as
+possible.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Acidly._] No, my dear! He has not succeeded in keeping his
+former wife as quiet as possible. We had not been in Cairo a week when
+who should turn up but Vida Phillimore. She went everywhere and did
+everything no woman should!
+
+GRACE. [_With unfeigned interest._] Oh, what did she do?
+
+SUDLEY. She "did" Cleopatra at the tableaux at Lord Errington's! She
+"did" Cleopatra, and she did it robed only in some diaphanous material
+of a nature so transparent that--in fact she appeared to be draped in
+moonshine. [MISS HENEAGE _indicates the presence of_ GRACE _and
+rises._] That was only the beginning. As soon as she heard of Philip's
+engagement, she gave a dinner in honour of it! Only divorcées were
+asked! And she had a dummy--yes, my dear, a dummy!--at the head of the
+table. He stood for Philip--that is he sat for Philip!
+
+            [_Rising and moving to the table._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Irritated and disgusted._] Ah!
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_With dismay and pain._] Dear me!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Confident of the value of her opinion._] I disapprove
+of Mrs. Phillimore.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Taking a cigarette._] Of course you do, but has Philip taken
+to Egyptian cigarettes in order to celebrate my winter at Cairo?
+
+GRACE. Those are Cynthia's.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Thinking that no one is worth knowing whom he does not
+know._] Who is "Cynthia?"
+
+GRACE. Mrs. Karslake--She's staying here, Cousin William. She'll be
+down in a minute.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Shocked._] You don't mean to tell me--?--!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Yes, William, Cynthia is Mrs. Karslake--Mrs. Karslake
+has no New York house. I disliked the publicity of a hotel in the
+circumstances, and, accordingly, when she became engaged to Philip, I
+invited her here.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Suspicious and distrustful._] And may I ask _who_ Mrs.
+Karslake is?
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_With confidence._] She was a Deane.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Walking about the room, sorry to be obliged to concede good
+birth to any but his own blood._] Oh, oh--well, the Deanes are
+extremely nice people. [_Approaching the table._] Was her father J.
+William Deane?
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Nodding, still more secure._] Yes.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Giving in with difficulty._] The family is an old one. J.
+William Deane's daughter? Surely he left a very considerable--
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Oh, fifteen or twenty millions.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Determined not to be dazzled._] If I remember rightly she
+was brought up abroad.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. In France and England--and I fancy brought up with a
+very gay set in very gay places. In fact she is what is called a
+"sporty" woman.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Always ready to think the worst._] We might put up with
+that. But you don't mean to tell me Philip has the--the--assurance to
+marry a woman who has been divorced by--
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Not at all. Cynthia Karslake divorced her husband.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Gloomily, since he has less fault to find than he
+expected._] She divorced him! Ah!
+
+            [_He seeks the consolation of his tea._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. The suit went by default. And, my dear William, there
+are many palliating circumstances. Cynthia was married to Karslake
+only seven months. There are no-- [_Glancing at_ GRACE] no hostages to
+Fortune! Ahem!
+
+SUDLEY. [_Still unwilling to be pleased._] Ah! What sort of a young
+woman is she?
+
+GRACE. [_With the superiority of one who is not too popular._] Men
+admire her.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. She's not conventional.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Showing a faint sense of justice._] I am bound to
+say she has behaved discreetly ever since she arrived in this house.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Yes, Mary--but I sometimes suspect that she exercises a
+degree of self-control--
+
+SUDLEY. [_Glad to have something against some one._] She claps on the
+lid, eh? And you think that perhaps some day she'll boil over? Well,
+of course fifteen or twenty millions--but who's Karslake?
+
+GRACE. [_Very superciliously._] He owns Cynthia K. She's the famous
+mare.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. He's Henry Karslake's son.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Beginning to make the best of fifteen millions-in-law._]
+Oh!--Henry!--Very respectable family. Although I remember his father
+served a term in the Senate. And so the wedding is to be to-morrow?
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Assenting._] To-morrow.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Rising, his respectability to the front when he thinks of
+the ceremony._ GRACE _rises._] To-morrow. Well, my dear Sarah, a
+respectable family with some means. We must accept her. But on the
+whole, I think it will be best for me not to see the young woman. My
+disapprobation would make itself apparent.
+
+GRACE. [_Whispering to_ SUDLEY.] Cynthia's coming.
+
+            [_He doesn't hear._
+
+    CYNTHIA _comes in, absorbed in reading a newspaper. She is a
+    young creature in her twenties, small and high-bred, full of
+    the love of excitement and sport. Her manner is wide-awake
+    and keen, and she is evidently in no fear of the opinion of
+    others. Her dress is exceedingly elegant, but with the
+    elegance of a woman whose chief interests lie in life out of
+    doors. There is nothing hard or masculine in her style, and
+    her expression is youthful and ingenuous._
+
+SUDLEY. [_Sententious and determinately epigrammatic._] The uncouth
+modern young woman, eight feet high, with a skin like a rhinoceros and
+manners like a cave-dweller--an habitué of the race-track and the
+divorce court--
+
+GRACE. [_Aside to_ SUDLEY.] Cousin William!
+
+SUDLEY. Eh, oh!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Reading her newspaper, advances into the room, immersed,
+excited, trembling. She lowers paper to catch the light._] "Belmont
+favourite--six to one--Rockaway--Rosebud, and Flying Cloud. Slow
+track--raw wind--h'm, h'm, h'm--At the half, Rockaway forged ahead,
+when Rosebud under the lash made a bold bid for victory--neck by
+neck--for a quarter--when Flying Cloud slipped by the pair and won on
+the post by a nose in one forty nine!" [_Speaking with the enthusiasm
+of a sport._] Oh, I wish I'd seen the dear thing do it. Oh, it's Mr.
+Sudley! You must think me very rude. How do you do, Mr. Sudley?
+
+            [_Going over to_ SUDLEY.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Bowing without cordiality._] Mrs. Karslake.
+
+[CYNTHIA _pauses, feeling he should say something. As he says nothing,
+she speaks again._
+
+CYNTHIA. I hope Cairo was delightful? Did you have a smooth voyage?
+
+SUDLEY. [_Pompously._] You must permit me, Mrs. Karslake--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With good temper, somewhat embarrassed, and talking herself
+into ease._] Oh, please don't welcome me to the family. All that
+formal part is over, if you don't mind. I'm one of the tribe now!
+You're coming to our wedding to-morrow?
+
+SUDLEY. My dear Mrs. Karslake, I think it might be wiser--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Still with cordial good temper._] Oh, but you must come! I
+mean to be a perfect wife to Philip and all his relations! That sounds
+rather miscellaneous, but you know what I mean.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Very sententious._] I am afraid--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Gay and still covering her embarrassment._] If you don't
+come, it'll look as if you were not standing by Philip when he's in
+trouble! You'll come, won't you--but of course you will.
+
+SUDLEY. [_After a self-important pause._] I will come, Mrs. Karslake.
+[_Pausing._] Good-afternoon. [_In a tone of sorrow and light
+compassion._] Good-bye, Mary. Good-afternoon, Sarah. [_Sighing._]
+Grace, dear. [_To_ MISS HENEAGE.] At what hour did you say the alimony
+commences?
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Quickly and commandingly to cover his slip._] The
+ceremony is at three P. M., William.
+
+            [SUDLEY _walks toward the door._
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_With fatigued voice and manner as she rises._] I am
+going to my room to rest awhile.
+
+            [_She trails slowly from the room._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_To_ SUDLEY.] Oh, William, one moment--I entirely
+forgot! I've a most important social question to ask you! [_She
+accompanies him slowly to the door._] in regard to the announcements
+of the wedding--who they shall be sent to and who not. For
+instance--the Dudleys-- [_Deep in their talk_, SUDLEY _and_ MISS
+HENEAGE _pass out together._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_From the sofa._] So that's Cousin William?
+
+GRACE. [_From the tea-table._] Don't you like him?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Calmly sarcastic._] Like him? I love him. He's so generous.
+He couldn't have received me with more warmth if I'd been a mulatto.
+
+    THOMAS _comes in, preceded by_ PHILLIMORE. PHILIP PHILLIMORE
+    _is a self-centered, short-tempered, imperious member of the
+    respectable fashionables of New York. He is well and solidly
+    dressed, and in manner and speech evidently a man of family.
+    He is accustomed to being listened to in his home circle and
+    from the bench, and it is practically impossible for him to
+    believe that he can make a mistake._
+
+GRACE. [_Outraged._] Really you know-- [CYNTHIA _moves to the table._]
+Philip!
+
+    PHILIP _nods to_ GRACE _absent-mindedly. He is in his working
+    suit and looks tired. He walks into the room silently; goes
+    over to the tea-table, bends over and kisses_ CYNTHIA _on the
+    forehead. Goes to his chair, which_ THOMAS _has moved to suit
+    him. He sits, and sighs with satisfaction._
+
+PHILIP. [_As if exhausted by brain work._] Ah, Grace! [GRACE
+_immediately sails out of the room._] Well, my dear, I thought I
+should never extricate myself from the court-room. You look very
+debonnair!
+
+CYNTHIA. The tea's making. You'll have your glass of sherry?
+
+PHILIP. [_The strain of the day evidently having been severe._]
+Thanks! [_Taking it from_ THOMAS _and sighing._] Ah!
+
+CYNTHIA. I can see it's been a tiring day with you.
+
+PHILIP. [_His great tussle with the world leaving him unworsted but
+utterly spent._] H'm! [_He gratefully sips his tea._
+
+CYNTHIA. Were the lawyers very long-winded?
+
+PHILIP. [_Almost too tired for speech._] Prolix to the point of
+somnolence. It might be affirmed without inexactitude that the
+prolixity of counsel is the somnolence of the judiciary. I am
+fatigued, ah! [_A little suddenly, awaking to the fact that his orders
+have not been carried out to the letter._] Thomas! My _Post_ is not in
+its usual place!
+
+CYNTHIA. It's here, Philip. [THOMAS _gets it._
+
+PHILIP. Thanks, my dear. [_Opening "The Post."_] Ah! This hour with
+you--is--is really the--the-- [_Absently._] the one vivid moment of the
+day. [_Reading._] H'm--shocking attack by the President on vested
+interests. H'm--too bad--but it's to be expected. The people insisted
+on electing a desperado to the presidential office--they must take the
+hold-up that follows. [_After a pause, he reads._] H'm! His English is
+lacking in idiom, his spelling in conservatism, his mind in balance,
+and his character in repose.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Amiable but not very sympathetic._] You seem more fatigued
+than usual. Another glass of sherry, Philip?
+
+PHILIP. Oh, I ought not to--
+
+CYNTHIA. I think you seem a little more tired than usual.
+
+PHILIP. Perhaps I am. [_She pours out sherry._ PHILIP _takes glass but
+does not sip._] Ah, this hour is truly a grateful form of restful
+excitement. [_After an inspired interval._] You, too, find it--eh?
+[_He looks at_ CYNTHIA.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With veiled sarcasm._] Decidedly.
+
+PHILIP. Decidedly what, my dear?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Her sarcasm still veiled._] Restful.
+
+PHILIP. H'm! Perhaps I need the calm more than you do. Over the case
+to-day I actually--eh-- [_Sipping his tea._] slumbered. I heard myself
+do it. That's how I know. A dressmaker sued on seven counts. [_Reading
+his newspaper._] Really, the insanity of the United States Senate--you
+seem restless, my dear. Ah--um--have you seen the evening paper? I see
+there has been a lightning change in the style or size of hats which
+ladies--
+
+    [_Sweeping a descriptive motion with his hand, he gives the
+    paper to_ CYNTHIA, _then moves his glass, reads, and sips._
+
+CYNTHIA. The lamp, Thomas.
+
+    THOMAS _blows out the alcohol lamp on the tea-table with
+    difficulty. Blows twice. Movement of_ PHILIP _each time.
+    Blows again._
+
+PHILIP. [_Irritably._] Confound it, Thomas! What are you puffing and
+blowing at--?
+
+THOMAS. It's out, ma'am--yes, sir.
+
+PHILIP. You're excessively noisy, Thomas!
+
+THOMAS. [_In a fluster._] Yes, sir--I am.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Soothing_ THOMAS'S _wounded feelings._] We don't need you,
+Thomas.
+
+THOMAS. Yes, ma'am.
+
+PHILIP. Puffing and blowing and shaking and quaking like an automobile
+in an ecstasy! [THOMAS _meekly withdraws._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Not unsympathetically._] Too bad, Philip! I hope my
+presence isn't too agitating?
+
+PHILIP. Ah--it's just because I value this hour with you,
+Cynthia--this hour of tea and toast and tranquillity. It's quite as if
+we were married--happily married--already.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Admitting that married life is a blank, begins to look
+through paper._] Yes, I feel as if we were married already.
+
+PHILIP. [_Not recognizing her tone._] Ah! It's the calm, you see.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Without warmth._] The calm? Yes--yes, it's--it's the calm.
+
+PHILIP. [_Sighs._] Yes, the calm--the Halcyon calm of--of second
+choice. H'm! [_He reads and turns over the leaves of the paper._
+CYNTHIA _reads. There is a silence._] After all, my dear--the feeling
+which I have for you--is--is--eh--the market is in a shocking
+condition of plethora! H'm--h'm--and what are you reading?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Embarrassed._] Oh, eh--well--I--eh--I'm just running over
+the sporting news.
+
+PHILIP. Oh! [_He looks thoughtful._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Beginning to forget_ PHILIP _and to remember more
+interesting matters._] I fancied Hermes would come in an easy winner.
+He came in nowhere. Nonpareil was ridden by Henslow--he's a rotten bad
+rider. He gets nervous.
+
+PHILIP. [_Still interested in his newspaper._] Does he? H'm! I suppose
+you do retain an interest in horses and races. H'm--I trust some day
+the--ah--law will attract--Oh [_Turning a page._], here's the report
+of my opinion in that dressmaker's case--Haggerty _vs._ Phillimore.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Puzzled._] Was the case brought against you?
+
+PHILIP. Oh--no. The suit was brought by Haggerty, Miss Haggerty, a
+dressmaker, against the--in fact, my dear, against the former Mrs.
+Phillimore. [_After a pause, he returns to his reading._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Curious about the matter._] How did you decide it?
+
+PHILIP. I was obliged to decide in Mrs. Phillimore's favour.
+Haggerty's plea was preposterous.
+
+CYNTHIA. Did you--did you meet the--the--former--?
+
+PHILIP. No.
+
+CYNTHIA. I often see her at afternoon teas.
+
+PHILIP. How did you recognize--
+
+CYNTHIA. Why-- [_Opening the paper._] because Mrs. Vida Phillimore's
+picture appears in every other issue of most of the evening papers.
+And I must confess I was curious. But, I'm sure you find it very
+painful to meet her again.
+
+PHILIP. [_Slowly, considering._] No,--would you find it so impossible
+to meet Mr.--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Much excited and aroused._] Philip! Don't speak of him.
+He's nothing. He's a thing of the past. I never think of him. I forget
+him!
+
+PHILIP. [_Somewhat sarcastic._] That's extraordinarily original of you
+to forget him.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Gently, and wishing to drop the subject._] We each of us
+have something to forget, Philip--and John Karslake is to me--Well,
+he's dead!
+
+PHILIP. As a matter of fact, my dear, he _is_ dead, or the next thing
+to it--for he's bankrupt.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_After a pause._] Bankrupt? [_Excited and moved._] Let's not
+speak of him. I mean never to see him or think about him or even hear
+of him! [_He assents. She reads her paper. He sips his tea and reads
+his paper. She turns a page, starts and cries out._
+
+PHILIP. God bless me!
+
+CYNTHIA. It's a picture of--of--
+
+PHILIP. John Karslake?
+
+CYNTHIA. Picture of him, and one of me, and in the middle between us
+"Cynthia K!"
+
+PHILIP. "Cynthia K!"
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Excited._] My pet riding mare! The best horse he has! She's
+an angel even in a photograph! Oh! [_Reading._] "John Karslake drops a
+fortune at Saratoga." [_Rises and walks up and down excitedly._ PHILIP
+_takes the paper and reads._
+
+PHILIP. [_Unconcerned, as the matter hardly touches him._]
+Hem--ah--Advertises country place for sale--stables, famous mare
+"Cynthia K"--favourite riding-mare of former Mrs. Karslake, who is
+once again to enter the arena of matrimony with the well-known and
+highly respected judge of--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Sensitive and much disturbed._] Don't! Don't, Philip,
+please don't!
+
+PHILIP. My dear Cynthia--take another paper--here's my _Post_! You'll
+find nothing disagreeable in _The Post_.
+
+            [CYNTHIA _takes paper._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_After reading, near the table._] It's much worse in _The
+Post_. "John Karslake sells the former Mrs. Karslake's jewels--the
+famous necklace now at Tiffany's, and the sporty ex-husband sells his
+wife's portrait by Sargent!" Philip, I can't stand this. [_Puts paper
+on the table._
+
+PHILIP. Really, my dear, Mr. Karslake is bound to appear occasionally
+in print--or even you may have to meet him.
+
+            [Thomas _comes in._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Determined and distressed._] I won't meet him! I won't meet
+him. Every time I hear his name or "Cynthia K's" I'm so depressed.
+
+THOMAS. [_Announcing with something like reluctance._] Sir, Mr.
+Fiddler. Mr. Karslake's trainer.
+
+    FIDDLER _walks in. He is an English horse trainer, a
+    wide-awake, stocky, well-groomed little cockney. He knows his
+    own mind and sees life altogether through a stable door.
+    Well-dressed for his station, and not too young._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Excited and disturbed._] Fiddler? Tim Fiddler? His coming
+is outrageous!
+
+FIDDLER. A note for you, sir.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Impulsively._] Oh, Fiddler--is that you?
+
+FIDDLER. Yes'm!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_In a half whisper, still speaking on impulse._] How is she!
+Cynthia K? How's Planet II and the colt and Golden Rod? How's the
+whole stable? Are they well?
+
+FIDDLER. No'm--we're all on the bum. [_Aside._] Ever since you kicked
+us over!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Reproving him, though pleased._] Fiddler!
+
+FIDDLER. The horses is just simply gone to Egypt since you left, and
+so's the guv'nor.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Putting an end to_ FIDDLER.] That will do, Fiddler.
+
+FIDDLER. I'm waiting for an answer, sir.
+
+CYNTHIA. What is it, Philip?
+
+PHILIP. [_Uncomfortable._] A mere matter of business. [_Aside to_
+FIDDLER.] The answer is, Mr. Karslake can come. The--the coast will be
+clear. [FIDDLER _goes out._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Amazed; rising._] You're not going to see him?
+
+PHILIP. But Karslake, my dear, is an old acquaintance of mine. He
+argues cases before me. I will see that you do not have to meet him.
+
+    [CYNTHIA _walks the length of the room in excited dejection._
+
+    MATTHEW _comes in. He is a High-church clergyman to a highly
+    fashionable congregation. His success is partly due to his
+    social position and partly to his elegance of speech, but
+    chiefly to his inherent amiability, which leaves the sinner
+    in happy peace and smiles on the just and unjust alike._
+
+MATTHEW. [_Most amiably._] Ah, my dear brother!
+
+PHILIP. [_Greeting him._] Matthew.
+
+MATTHEW. [_Nodding to_ PHILIP.] Good afternoon, my dear Cynthia. How
+charming you look! [CYNTHIA _sits down at the tea-table. To_
+CYNTHIA.] Ah, why weren't you in your pew yesterday? I preached a most
+original sermon.
+
+            [_He lays his hat and cane on the divan._
+
+THOMAS. [_Aside to_ PHILIP.] Sir, Mrs. Vida Phillimore's maid called
+you up on the telephone, and you're to expect Mrs. Phillimore on a
+matter of business.
+
+PHILIP. [_Astonished and disgusted._] Here, impossible! [_To_
+CYNTHIA.] Excuse me, my dear! [PHILIP, _much embarrassed, goes out,
+followed by_ THOMAS.
+
+MATTHEW. [_Approaching_ CYNTHIA'S _chair, happily and pleasantly
+self-important._] No, really, it was a wonderful sermon, my dear. My
+text was from Paul--"It is better to marry than to burn." It was a
+strictly logical sermon. I argued--that, as the grass withereth, and
+the flower fadeth,--there is nothing final in Nature; not even Death!
+And, as there is nothing final in Nature, not even Death;--so then if
+Death is not final--why should marriage be final? [_Gently._] And so
+the necessity of--eh--divorce! You see? It was an exquisite sermon!
+All New York was there! And all New York went away happy! Even the
+sinners--if there were any! I don't often meet sinners--do you?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Indulgently, in spite of his folly, because he is kind._]
+You're such a dear, delightful Pagan! Here's your tea!
+
+MATTHEW. [_Taking the tea._] Why, my dear--you have a very sad
+expression!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_A little bitterly._] Why not?
+
+MATTHEW. [_With sentimental sweetness._] I feel as if I were of no use
+in the world when I see sadness on a young face. Only sinners should
+feel sad. You have committed no sin!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Impulsively._] Yes, I have!
+
+MATTHEW. Eh?
+
+CYNTHIA. I committed the unpardonable sin--whe--when I married for
+love!
+
+MATTHEW. One must not marry for anything else, my dear!
+
+CYNTHIA. Why am I marrying your brother?
+
+MATTHEW. I often wonder why? I wonder why you didn't choose to remain
+a free woman.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Going over the ground she has often argued with herself._]
+I meant to; but a divorcée has no place in society. I felt horridly
+lonely! I wanted a friend. Philip was ideal as a friend--for months.
+Isn't it nice to bind a friend to you?
+
+MATTHEW. [_Setting down his teacup._] Yes--yes!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Growing more and more excited and moved as she speaks._] To
+marry a friend--to marry on prudent, sensible grounds--a man--like
+Philip? That's what I should have done first, instead of rushing into
+marriage--because I had a wild, mad, sensitive, sympathetic--passion
+and pain and fury--of, I don't know what--that almost strangled me
+with happiness!
+
+MATTHEW. [_Amiable and reminiscent._] Ah--ah--in my youth--I,--I too!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Coming back to her manner of every day._] And besides--the
+day Philip asked me I was in the dumps! And now--how about marrying
+only for love? [PHILIP _comes back._
+
+MATTHEW. Ah, my dear, love is not the only thing in the world!
+
+PHILIP. [_Half aside._] I got there too late, she'd hung up.
+
+CYNTHIA. Who, Philip?
+
+PHILIP. Eh--a lady--eh--
+
+            [THOMAS, _flurried, comes in with a card on a salver._
+
+THOMAS. A card for you, sir. Ahem--ahem--Mrs. Phillimore--that was,
+sir.
+
+PHILIP. Eh?
+
+THOMAS. She's on the stairs, sir. [_He nods backward, only to find_
+VIDA _at his side. He announces her as being the best way of meeting
+the difficulty._] Mrs. Vida Phillimore!
+
+    VIDA _comes in slowly, with the air of a spoiled beauty. She
+    stops just inside the door and speaks in a very casual
+    manner. Her voice is languorous and caressing. She is dressed
+    in the excess of the French fashion and carries a daring
+    parasol. She smiles and comes in, undulating, to the middle
+    of the room. Tableau._ THOMAS _withdraws._
+
+VIDA. How do you do, Philip. [_After a pause._] Don't tell me I'm a
+surprise! I had you called up on the 'phone and I sent up my
+card--and, besides, Philip dear, when you have the--the--habit of the
+house, as unfortunately I have, you can't treat yourself like a
+stranger in a strange land. At least, I can't--so here I am. My reason
+for coming was to ask you about that B. & O. stock we hold in common.
+[_To_ MATTHEW, _condescendingly, the clergy being a class of
+unfortunates debarred by profession from the pleasures of the world._]
+How do you do? [_Pause. She then goes to the real reason of her
+visit._] Do be polite and present me to your wife-to-be.
+
+PHILIP. [_Awkwardly._] Cynthia--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Cheerfully, with dash, putting the table between_ VIDA _and
+herself._] We're delighted to see you, Mrs. Phillimore. I needn't ask
+you to make yourself at home, but will you have a cup of tea? [MATTHEW
+_sits near the little table._
+
+VIDA. [_To_ PHILIP.] My dear, she's not in the least what I expected.
+I heard she was a dove! She's a very dashing kind of a dove! [_To_
+CYNTHIA, _who moves to the tea-table._] My dear, I'm paying you
+compliments. Five lumps and quantities of cream. I find single life
+very thinning. [_To_ PHILIP, _calm and ready to be agreeable to any
+man._] And how well you're looking! It must be the absence of
+matrimonial cares--or is it a new angel in the house?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Outraged at_ VIDA'S _intrusion, but polite though
+delicately sarcastic._] It's most amusing to sit in your place. And
+how at home you must feel here in this house where you have made so
+much trouble--I mean tea. [_Rises._] Do you know it would be in much
+better taste if you would take the place you're accustomed to?
+
+VIDA. [_As calm as before._] My dear, I'm an intruder only for a
+moment; I sha'n't give you a chance to score off me again! But I must
+thank you, dear Philip, for rendering that decision in my favour--
+
+PHILIP. I assure you--
+
+Vida. [_Unable to resist a thrust._] Of course, you would like to have
+rendered it against me. It was your wonderful sense of justice, and
+that's why I'm so grateful--if not to you, to your Maker!
+
+PHILIP. [_Feels that this is no place for his future wife. Rises
+quickly. To_ CYNTHIA.] Cynthia, I would prefer that you left us.
+
+            [MATTHEW _moves to the sofa and sits down._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Determined not to leave the field first, remains seated._]
+Certainly, Philip!
+
+PHILIP. I expect another visitor who--
+
+VIDA. [_With flattering insistence, to_ CYNTHIA.] Oh, my dear--don't
+go! The truth is--I came to see you! I feel most cordially towards
+you--and really, you know, people in our position should meet on
+cordial terms.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Taking it with apparent calm, but pointing her remarks._]
+Naturally. If people in our position couldn't meet, New York society
+would soon come to an end. [THOMAS _comes in._
+
+VIDA. [_Calm, but getting her knife in too._] Precisely. Society's no
+bigger than a band-box. Why, it's only a moment ago I saw Mr. Karslake
+walking--
+
+CYNTHIA. Ah!
+
+THOMAS. [_Announcing clearly. Everyone changes place, in
+consternation, amusement or surprise._ CYNTHIA _moves to leave the
+room, but stops for fear of attracting_ KARSLAKE'S _attention._] Mr.
+John Karslake!
+
+    _Enter_ KARSLAKE. _He is a powerful, generous personality, a
+    man of affairs, breezy, gay and careless. He gives the
+    impression of being game for any fate in store for him. His
+    clothes indicate sporting propensities and his taste in
+    waistcoats and ties is brilliant._ KARSLAKE _sees first_
+    PHILIP _and then_ MATTHEW. THOMAS _goes out._
+
+PHILIP. How do you do?
+
+JOHN. [_Very gay and no respecter of persons._] Good-afternoon, Mr.
+Phillimore. Hello--here's the church! [_Crossing to_ MATTHEW _and
+shaking hands. He slaps him on the back._] I hadn't the least
+idea--how are you? By George, your reverence, that was a racy sermon
+of yours on Divorce! What was your text? [_Sees_ VIDA _and bows, very
+politely._] Galatians 4:2, "The more the merrier," or "Who next?"
+[_Smiles._] As the whale said after Jonah! [CYNTHIA _makes a sudden
+movement, upsetting her tea-cup._ JOHN _faces about quickly and they
+face each other._ JOHN _gives a frank start. A pause holds them._
+
+JOHN. [_Astounded, in a low voice._] Mrs. Karslake-- [_Bowing._] I was
+not aware of the pleasure in store for me. I understood you were in
+the country. [_Recovering and moving to her chair._] Perhaps you'll be
+good enough to make me a cup of tea?--that is if the teapot wasn't
+lost in the scrimmage. [_There is another pause._ CYNTHIA, _determined
+to equal him in coolness, returns to the tea-tray._] Mr. Phillimore, I
+came to get your signature in that matter of Cox _vs._ Keely.
+
+PHILIP. I shall be at your service, but pray be seated.
+
+            [_He indicates a chair by the tea-table._
+
+JOHN. [_Sitting beyond but not far from the tea-table._] And I also
+understood you to say you wanted a saddle-horse.
+
+PHILIP. You have a mare called--eh--"Cynthia K?"
+
+JOHN. [_Promptly._] Yes--she's not for sale.
+
+PHILIP. Oh, but she's just the mare I had set my mind on.
+
+JOHN. [_With a touch of humour._] You want her for yourself?
+
+PHILIP. [_A little flustered._] I--eh--I sometimes ride.
+
+JOHN. [_Now sure of himself._] She's rather lively for you, Judge.
+Mrs. Karslake used to ride her.
+
+PHILIP. You don't care to sell her to me?
+
+JOHN. She's a dangerous mare, Judge, and she's as delicate and
+changeable as a girl. I'd hate to leave her in your charge!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Eagerly but in a low voice._] Leave her in mine, Mr.
+Karslake!
+
+JOHN. [_After a slight pause._] Mrs. Karslake knows all about a horse,
+but-- [_Turning to_ CYNTHIA.] Cynthia K's got rather tricky of late.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Haughtily._] You mean to say you think she'd chuck me?
+
+JOHN. [_With polite solicitude and still humourous. To_ PHILIP.] I'd
+hate to have a mare of mine deprive you of a wife, Judge. [_Rises._
+CYNTHIA _shows anger._] She goes to Saratoga next week, C. W.
+
+VIDA. [_Who has been sitting and talking to_ MATTHEW _for lack of a
+better man, comes to talk to_ KARSLAKE.] C. W.?
+
+JOHN. [_Rising as she rises._] Creditors willing.
+
+VIDA. [_Changing her seat for one near the tea-table._] I'm sure your
+creditors are willing.
+
+JOHN. Oh, they're a breezy lot, my creditors. They're giving me a
+dinner this evening.
+
+VIDA. [_More than usually anxious to please._] I regret I'm not a
+breezy creditor, but I do think you owe it to me to let me see your
+Cynthia K! Can't you lead her around to my house?
+
+JOHN. At what hour, Mrs. Phillimore?
+
+VIDA. Say eleven? And you, too, might have a leading in my
+direction--771 Fifth Avenue.
+
+            [JOHN _bows._ CYNTHIA _hears and notes this._
+
+CYNTHIA. Your cup of tea, Mr. Karslake.
+
+JOHN. Thanks. [_Taking his tea and sipping it._] I beg your
+pardon--you have forgotten, Mrs. Karslake--very naturally, it has
+slipped your memory, but I don't take sugar. [CYNTHIA, _furious with
+him and herself. He hands the cup back. She makes a second cup._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Cheerfully; in a rage._] Sorry!
+
+JOHN. [_Also apparently cheerful._] Yes, gout. It gives me a twinge
+even to sit in the shadow of a sugar-maple! First you riot, and then
+you diet!
+
+VIDA. [_Calm and amused; aside to_ MATTHEW.] My dear Matthew, he's a
+darling! But I feel as if we were all taking tea on the slope of a
+volcano! [MATTHEW _sits down._
+
+PHILIP. It occurred to me, Mr. Karslake, you might be glad to find a
+purchaser for your portrait by Sargent?
+
+JOHN. It's not _my_ portrait. It's a portrait of Mrs. Karslake, and to
+tell you the truth--Sargent's a good fellow--I've made up my mind to
+keep it--to remember the artist by.
+
+            [CYNTHIA _is wounded by this._
+
+PHILIP. H'm!
+
+            [CYNTHIA _hands a second cup to_ JOHN.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With careful politeness._] Your cup of tea, Mr. Karslake.
+
+JOHN. [_Rising and taking the tea with courteous indifference._]
+Thanks--sorry to trouble you.
+
+            [_He drinks the cup of tea standing by the tea-table._
+
+PHILIP. [_To make conversation._] You're selling your country place?
+
+JOHN. If I was long of hair--I'd sell that.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Excited. Taken out of herself by the news._] You're not
+really selling your stable?
+
+JOHN. [_Finishes his tea, places the empty cup on the tea-table, and
+reseats himself._] Every gelding I've got--seven foals and a donkey! I
+don't mean the owner.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Still interested and forgetting the discomfort of the
+situation._] How did you ever manage to come such a cropper?
+
+JOHN. Streak of blue luck!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Quickly._] I don't see how it's possible--
+
+JOHN. You would if you'd been there. You remember the head man?
+[_Sitting down._] Bloke?
+
+CYNTHIA. Of course!
+
+JOHN. Well, his wife divorced him for beating her over the head with a
+bottle of Fowler's Solution, and it seemed to prey on his mind. He
+sold me--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Horrified._] Sold a race?
+
+JOHN. About ten races, I guess.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Incredulous._] Just because he'd beaten his wife?
+
+JOHN. No. Because she divorced him.
+
+CYNTHIA. Well, I can't see why that should prey on his mind!
+
+            [_Suddenly remembers._
+
+JOHN. Well, I have known men that it stroked the wrong way. But he
+cost me eighty thousand. And then Urbanity ran third in the
+thousand-dollar stakes for two-year-olds at Belmont.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Throws this remark in._] I never had faith in that horse.
+
+JOHN. And, of course, it never rains monkeys but it pours gorillas! So
+when I was down at St. Louis on the fifth, I laid seven to three on
+Fraternity--
+
+CYNTHIA. Crazy! Crazy!
+
+JOHN. [_Ready to take the opposite view._] I don't see it. With her
+record she ought to have romped it an easy winner.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Her sporting instinct asserting itself._] She hasn't the
+stamina! Look at her barrel!
+
+JOHN. Well, anyhow, Geranium finished me!
+
+CYNTHIA. You didn't lay odds on Geranium!
+
+JOHN. Why not? She's my own mare--
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh!
+
+JOHN. Streak o' bad luck--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Plainly anxious to say "I told you so."_] Streak of poor
+judgment! Do you remember the day you rode Billy at a six-foot stone
+wall, and he stopped and you didn't, and there was a hornet's nest
+[MATTHEW _rises._] on the other side, and I remember you were hot just
+because I said you showed poor judgment? [_She laughs at the memory. A
+general movement of disapproval. She remembers the situation._] I beg
+your pardon.
+
+MATTHEW. [_Rises to meet_ VIDA. _Hastily._] It seems to me that horses
+are like the fourth gospel. Any conversation about them becomes
+animated almost beyond the limits of the urbane! [VIDA, _disgusted by
+such plainness of speech, rises and goes to_ PHILIP _who waves her to
+a chair._
+
+PHILIP. [_Formally._] I regret that you have endured such reverses,
+Mr. Karslake. [JOHN _quietly bows._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Concealing her interest and speaking casually._] You
+haven't mentioned your new English horse--Pantomime. What did he do at
+St. Louis?
+
+JOHN. [_Sitting down._] Fell away and ran fifth.
+
+CYNTHIA. Too bad. Was he fully acclimated? Ah, well--
+
+JOHN. We always differed--you remember--on the time needed--
+
+MATTHEW. [_Coming over to_ CYNTHIA, _and speaking to carry off the
+situation as well as to get a tip._] Isn't there a--eh--a race
+to-morrow at Belmont Park?
+
+JOHN. Yes. I'm going down in my auto.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Evidently wishing she might be going too._] Oh!
+
+MATTHEW. And what animal shall you prefer?
+
+            [_Covering his personal interest with amiable altruism._
+
+JOHN. I'm backing Carmencita.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With a gesture of despair._] Carmencita! Carmencita!
+
+            [MATTHEW _returns to_ VIDA'S _side._
+
+JOHN. You may remember we always differed on Carmencita.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Disgusted at_ JOHN'S _dunderheadedness._] But there's no
+room for difference. She's a wild, headstrong, dissatisfied, foolish
+little filly. The deuce couldn't ride her--she'd shy at her own
+shadow--"Carmencita." Oh, very well then, I'll wager you--and I'll
+give you odds too--"Decorum" will come in first, and I'll lay three to
+one he'll beat Carmencita by five lengths! How's that for fair?
+
+JOHN. [_Never forgetting the situation._] Sorry I'm not flush enough
+to take you.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Impetuously._] Philip, dear, you lend John enough for the
+wager.
+
+MATTHEW. [_As nearly horrified as so soft a soul can be._] Ahem!
+Really--
+
+JOHN. It's a sporty idea, Mrs. Karslake, but perhaps in the
+circumstances--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Her mind on her wager._] In what circumstances?
+
+PHILIP. [_With a nervous laugh._] It does seem to me there is a
+certain impropriety--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Remembering the conventions, which, for a moment, had
+actually escaped her._] Oh, I forgot. When horses are in the air--
+
+MATTHEW. [_Pouring oil on troubled waters. Moving, he speaks to_ VIDA
+_from the back of her armchair._] It's the fourth gospel, you see.
+[THOMAS _comes in with a letter on a salver, which he hands to_
+PHILIP.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Meekly._] You are quite right, Philip. [PHILIP _goes up._]
+The fact is, seeing Mr. Karslake again [_Laying on her indifference
+with a trowel._] he seems to me as much a stranger as if I were
+meeting him for the first time.
+
+MATTHEW. [_Aside to_ VIDA.] We are indeed taking tea on the slope of a
+volcano.
+
+VIDA. [_About to go, but thinking she will have a last word with_
+JOHN.] I'm sorry your fortunes are so depressed, Mr. Karslake.
+
+PHILIP. [_Looking at the card that_ THOMAS _has just brought in._] Who
+in the world is Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby?
+
+            [_There is a general stir._
+
+JOHN. Oh--eh--Cates-Darby? [PHILIP _opens the letter which_ THOMAS
+_has brought with the card._] That's the English chap I bought
+Pantomime of.
+
+PHILIP. [_To_ THOMAS.] Show Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby in.
+
+    THOMAS _goes out. The prospect of an Englishman with a handle
+    to his name changes_ VIDA'S _plans and, instead of leaving
+    the house, she goes to sofa, and poses there._
+
+JOHN. He's a good fellow, Judge. Place near Epsom. Breeder. Over here
+to take a shy at our races.
+
+THOMAS. [_Opening the door and announcing._] Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby.
+
+    _Enter_ SIR WILFRID CATES-DARBY. _He is a high-bred, sporting
+    Englishman. His manner, his dress and his diction are the
+    perfection of English elegance. His movements are quick and
+    graceful. He talks lightly and with ease. He is full of life
+    and unsmiling good temper._
+
+PHILIP. [_To_ SIR WILFRID _and referring to the letter of introduction
+in his hand._] I am Mr. Phillimore. I am grateful to Stanhope for
+giving me the opportunity of knowing you, Sir Wilfrid. I fear you find
+it warm?
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Delicately mopping his forehead._] Ah, well--ah--warm,
+no--hot, yes! Deuced extraordinary climate yours, you know, Mr.
+Phillimore.
+
+PHILIP. [_Conventionally._] Permit me to present you to-- [_The
+unconventional situation pulls him up short. It takes him a moment to
+decide how to meet it. He makes up his mind to pretend that everything
+is as usual, and presents_ CYNTHIA _first._] Mrs. Karslake.
+
+    [SIR WILFRID _bows, surprised and doubtful._
+
+CYNTHIA. How do you do?
+
+PHILIP. And to Mrs. Phillimore. [VIDA _bows nonchalantly, but with a
+view to catching_ SIR WILFRID'S _attention._ SIR WILFRID _bows, and
+looks from her to_ PHILIP.] My brother--and Mr. Karslake you know.
+
+SIR WILFRID. How do, my boy. [_Half aside, to_ JOHN.] No idea you had
+such a charming little wife--What?--Eh? [KARSLAKE _moves to speak to_
+MATTHEW _and_ PHILIP _in the further room._
+
+CYNTHIA. You'll have a cup of tea, Sir Wilfrid?
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_At the table._] Thanks, awfully. [_Very cheerfully._]
+I'd no idea old John had a wife! The rascal never told me!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Pouring tea and facing the facts._] I'm not Mr. Karslake's
+wife!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh!--Eh?--I see--
+
+            [_He is evidently trying to think this out._
+
+VIDA. [_Who has been ready for some time to speak to him._] Sir
+Wilfrid, I'm sure no one has asked you how you like our country?
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Going to_ VIDA _and standing by her at the sofa._] Oh,
+well, as to climate and horses, I say nothing. But I like your
+American humour. I'm acquiring it for home purposes.
+
+VIDA. [_Getting down to love as the basis of conversation._] Aren't
+you going to acquire an American girl for home purposes?
+
+SIR WILFRID. The more narrowly I look the agreeable project in the
+face, the more I like it. Oughtn't to say that in the presence of your
+husband. [_He casts a look at_ PHILIP, _who has gone into the next
+room._
+
+VIDA. [_Cheerful and unconstrained._] He's not my husband!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Completely confused._] Oh--eh?--my brain must be
+boiled. You are--Mrs.--eh--ah--of course, now I see! I got the wrong
+names! I thought you were Mrs. Phillimore. [_Sitting down by her._]
+And that nice girl, Mrs. Karslake! You're deucedly lucky to be Mrs.
+Karslake. John's a prime sort. I say, have you and he got any kids?
+How many?
+
+VIDA. [_Horrified at being suspected of maternity, but speaking very
+sweetly._] He's not my husband.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_His good spirits all gone, but determined to clear
+things up._] Phew! Awfully hot in here! Who the deuce is John's wife?
+
+VIDA. He hasn't any.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Who's Phillimore's wife?
+
+VIDA. He hasn't any.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Thanks, fearfully! [_To_ MATTHEW, _whom he approaches;
+suspecting himself of having lost his wits._] Would you excuse me, my
+dear and Reverend Sir--you're a churchman and all that--would you mind
+straightening me out?
+
+MATTHEW. [_Most graciously._] Certainly, Sir Wilfrid. Is it a matter
+of doctrine?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, damme--beg your pardon,--no, it's not words, it's
+women.
+
+MATTHEW. [_Ready to be outraged._] Women!
+
+SIR WILFRID. It's divorce. Now, the lady on the sofa--
+
+MATTHEW. _Was_ my brother's wife; he divorced
+her--incompatibility--Rhode Island. The lady at the tea-table _was_
+Mr. Karslake's wife; she divorced him--desertion--Sioux Falls. One
+moment--she is about to marry my brother.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Cheerful again._] I'm out! Thought I never would be!
+Thanks! [VIDA _laughs._
+
+VIDA. [_Not a whit discountenanced and ready to please._] Have you got
+me straightened out yet?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Straight as a die! I say, you had lots of fun, didn't
+you? [_Returning to his position by the sofa._] And so _she's_ Mrs.
+John Karslake?
+
+VIDA. [_Calm, but secretly disappointed._] Do you like her?
+
+SIR WILFRID. My word!
+
+VIDA. [_Fully expecting personal flattery._] Eh?
+
+SIR WILFRID. She's a box o' ginger!
+
+VIDA. You haven't seen many American women!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, haven't I?
+
+VIDA. If you'll pay me a visit to-morrow--at twelve, you shall meet a
+most charming young woman, who has seen you once, and who admires
+you--ah!
+
+SIR WILFRID. I'm there--what!
+
+VIDA. Seven hundred and seventy-one Fifth Avenue.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Seven seventy-one Fifth Avenue--at twelve.
+
+VIDA. At twelve.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Thanks! [_Indicating_ CYNTHIA.] She's a thoroughbred--you
+can see that with one eye shut. Twelve. [_Shaking hands._] Awfully
+good of you to ask me. [_He joins_ JOHN.] I say, my boy, your former's
+an absolute certainty. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] I hear you're about to marry
+Mr. Phillimore, Mrs. Karslake?
+
+    KARSLAKE _crosses to_ VIDA _and together they move to the
+    sofa and sit down._
+
+CYNTHIA. To-morrow, 3 P. M., Sir Wilfrid.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Much taken with_ CYNTHIA.] Afraid I've run into a sort
+of family party, eh? [_Indicating_ VIDA.] The Past and the
+Future--awfully chic way you Americans have of asking your divorced
+husbands and wives to drop in, you know--celebrate a christenin', or
+the new bride, or--
+
+CYNTHIA. Do you like your tea strong?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Middlin'.
+
+CYNTHIA. Sugar?
+
+SIR WILFRID. One!
+
+CYNTHIA. Lemon?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Just torture a lemon over it. [_He makes a gesture as of
+twisting a lemon peel. She hands him his tea._] Thanks! So you do it
+to-morrow at three?
+
+CYNTHIA. At three, Sir Wilfrid.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Sorry!
+
+CYNTHIA. Why are you sorry?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Hate to see a pretty woman married. Might marry her
+myself.
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh, but I'm sure you don't admire American women.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Admire you, Mrs. Karslake--
+
+CYNTHIA. Not enough to marry me, I hope.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Marry you in a minute! Say the word. Marry you now--here.
+
+CYNTHIA. You don't think you ought to know me a little before--
+
+SIR WILFRID. Know you? Do know you.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Covering her hair with her handkerchief._] What colour is
+my hair?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Pshaw!
+
+CYNTHIA. You see! You don't know whether I'm a chestnut or a
+strawberry roan! In the States we think a few months of friendship is
+quite necessary.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Few months of moonshine! Never was a friend to a
+woman--thank God, in all my life.
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh--oh, oh!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Might as well talk about being a friend to a
+whiskey-and-soda.
+
+CYNTHIA. A woman has a soul, Sir Wilfrid.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Well, good whiskey is spirits--dozens o' souls!
+
+CYNTHIA. You are so gross!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Changing his seat for one at the tea-table._] Gross?
+Not a bit! Friendship between the sexes is all fudge! I'm no friend to
+a rose in my garden. I don't call it friendship--eh--eh--a warm,
+starry night, moonbeams and ilex trees, "and a spirit who knows how"
+and all that--eh-- [_Getting closer to her._] You make me feel awfully
+poetical, you know-- [PHILIP _comes toward them, glances nervously at_
+CYNTHIA _and_ SIR WILFRID, _and walks away again._] What's the matter?
+But, I say--poetry aside--do you, eh---- [_Looking around to place_
+PHILIP.] Does he--y'know--is he--does he go to the head?
+
+CYNTHIA. Sir Wilfrid, Mr. Phillimore is my sober second choice.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Did you ever kiss him? I'll bet he fined you for contempt
+of court. Look here, Mrs. Karslake, if you're marryin' a man you don't
+care about--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Amused and excusing his audacity as a foreigner's
+eccentricity._] Really!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Well, I don't offer myself--
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Not this instant--
+
+CYNTHIA. Ah!
+
+SIR WILFRID. But let me drop in to-morrow at ten.
+
+CYNTHIA. What country and state of affairs do you think you have
+landed in?
+
+SIR WILFRID. New York, by Jove! Been to school, too. New York is
+bounded on the North, South, East and West by the state of Divorce!
+Come, come, Mrs. Karslake, I like your country. You've no fear and no
+respect--no cant and lots of can. Here you all are, you see--your
+former husband, and your new husband's former wife--sounds like
+Ollendoff! Eh? So there you are, you see! But, jokin' apart--why do
+you marry him? Oh, well, marry him if you must! You can run around the
+corner and get a divorce afterwards--
+
+CYNTHIA. I believe you think they throw one in with an ice-cream soda!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Rising._] Damme, my dear lady, a marriage in your
+country is no more than a--eh--eh--what do you call 'em? A thank you,
+ma'am. That's what an American marriage is--a thank you, ma'am.
+Bump--bump--you're over it and on to the next.
+
+CYNTHIA. You're an odd fish! What? I believe I like you!
+
+SIR WILFRID. 'Course you do! You'll see me when I call to-morrow--at
+ten? We'll run down to Belmont Park, eh?
+
+CYNTHIA. Don't be absurd!
+
+VIDA. [_Has finished her talk with_ JOHN, _and breaks in on_ SIR
+WILFRID, _who has hung about_ CYNTHIA _too long to suit her._]
+To-morrow at twelve, Sir Wilfrid!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Twelve!
+
+VIDA. [_Shaking hands with_ JOHN.] Don't forget, Mr. Karslake--eleven
+o'clock to-morrow.
+
+JOHN. [_Bowing assent._] I won't!
+
+VIDA. [_Coming over to_ CYNTHIA.] Oh, Mrs. Karslake, I've ordered
+Tiffany to send you something. It's a sugar-bowl to sweeten the
+matrimonial lot! I suppose nothing would induce you to call?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Distantly and careless of offending._] Thanks, no--that is,
+is "Cynthia K" really to be there at eleven? I'd give a gold mine to
+see her again.
+
+VIDA. Do come!
+
+CYNTHIA. If Mr. Karslake will accommodate me by his absence.
+
+VIDA. Dear Mr. Karslake, you'll have to change your hour.
+
+JOHN. Sorry, I'm not able to.
+
+CYNTHIA. I can't come later for I'm to be married.
+
+JOHN. It's not as bad as that with me, but I am to be sold
+up--Sheriff, you know. Can't come later than eleven.
+
+VIDA. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Any hour but eleven, dear.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Perfectly regardless of_ VIDA, _and ready to vex_ JOHN _if
+possible._] Mrs. Phillimore, I shall call on you at eleven--to see
+Cynthia K. I thank you for the invitation. Good-afternoon.
+
+VIDA. [_Aside to_ JOHN, _crossing to speak quietly to him._] It's mere
+bravado; she won't come.
+
+JOHN. You don't know her.
+
+    _There is a pause and general embarrassment._ SIR WILFRID
+    _uses his eye-glass._ JOHN _angry._ CYNTHIA _triumphant._
+    MATTHEW _embarrassed._ VIDA _irritated._ PHILIP _puzzled.
+    Everybody is at odds._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_For the first time a witness to the pretty
+complications of divorce. To_ MATTHEW.] Do you have it as warm as this
+ordinarily?
+
+MATTHEW. [_For whom these moments are more than usually painful, and
+wiping his brow._] It's not so much the heat as the humidity.
+
+JOHN. [_Looks at watch and, relieved, glad to be off._] I shall be
+late for my creditors' dinner.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Interested and walking toward_ JOHN.] Creditors'
+dinner.
+
+JOHN. [_Reading the note._] Fifteen of my sporting creditors have
+arranged to give me a blow-out at Sherry's, and I'm expected right
+away or sooner. And, by the way, I was to bring my friends--if I had
+any. So now's the time to stand by me! Mrs. Phillimore?
+
+VIDA. Of course!
+
+JOHN. [_Ready to embarrass_ CYNTHIA, _if possible, and speaking as if
+he had quite forgotten their former relations._] Mrs. Karslake--I beg
+your pardon. Judge? [PHILIP _declines._] No? Sir Wilfrid?
+
+SIR WILFRID. I'm with you!
+
+JOHN. [_To_ MATTHEW.] Your Grace?
+
+MATTHEW. I regret--
+
+SIR WILFRID. Is it the custom for creditors--
+
+JOHN. Come on, Sir Wilfrid! [THOMAS _opens door._] Good-night,
+Judge--Your Grace--
+
+SIR WILFRID. Is it the custom--
+
+JOHN. Hang the custom! Come on--I'll show you a gang of creditors
+worth having!
+
+    SIR WILFRID _and_ JOHN _go out, arm in arm, preceded by_
+    VIDA. MATTHEW _crosses the room, smiling, as if pleased, in a
+    Christian way, with this display of generous gaiety. He stops
+    short suddenly and looks at his watch._
+
+MATTHEW. Good gracious! I had no idea the hour was so late. I've been
+asked to a meeting with Maryland and Iowa, to talk over the divorce
+situation. [_He leaves the room quickly and his voice is heard in the
+hall._] Good-afternoon! Good-afternoon!
+
+    CYNTHIA _is evidently much excited. The outer door slams._
+    PHILIP _comes down slowly._ CYNTHIA _stands, her eyes wide,
+    her breathing visible, until_ PHILIP _speaks, when she seems
+    suddenly to realize her position. There is a long pause._
+
+PHILIP. [_With a superior air._] I have seldom witnessed a more
+amazing cataclysm of jocundity! Of course, my dear, this has all been
+most disagreeable for you.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Excitedly._] Yes, yes, yes!
+
+PHILIP. I saw how much it shocked your delicacy.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Distressed and moved._] Outrageous.
+
+            [PHILIP _sits down._
+
+PHILIP. Do be seated, Cynthia. [_Taking up the paper. Quietly._] Very
+odd sort of an Englishman--that Cates-Darby!
+
+CYNTHIA. Sir Wilfrid?--Oh, yes! [PHILIP _settles down to the paper. To
+herself._] Outrageous! I've a great mind to go at eleven--just as I
+said I would!
+
+PHILIP. Do sit down, Cynthia!
+
+CYNTHIA. What? What?
+
+PHILIP. You make me so nervous--
+
+CYNTHIA. Sorry--sorry. [_She sits down and, seeing the paper, takes
+it, looking at the picture of_ JOHN KARSLAKE.
+
+PHILIP. [_Sighing with content._] Ah! now that I see him, I don't
+wonder you couldn't stand him. There's a kind of--ah--spontaneous
+inebriety about him. He is incomprehensible! If I might with reverence
+cross-question the Creator, I would say to him: "Sir, to what end or
+purpose did you create Mr. John Karslake?" I believe I should obtain
+no adequate answer! However, [_Sighs._] at last we have peace--and
+_The Post_! [PHILIP, _settling himself, reads his paper;_ CYNTHIA,
+_glancing at her paper, occasionally looks across at_ PHILIP.] Forget
+the dust of the arena--the prolixity of counsel--the involuntary
+fatuity of things in general. [_After a pause, he goes on with his
+reading._] Compose yourself!
+
+    MISS HENEAGE, MRS. PHILLIMORE _and_ GRACE _come in._ CYNTHIA
+    _sighs without letting her sigh be heard. She tries to
+    compose herself. She glances at the paper and then, hearing_
+    MISS HENEAGE, _starts slightly._ MISS HENEAGE _and_ MRS.
+    PHILLIMORE _stop at the table._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Carrying a sheet of paper._] There, my dear Mary, is
+the announcement as I have now reworded it. I took William's
+suggestion. [MRS. PHILLIMORE _takes and casually reads it._] I also
+put the case to him, and he was of the opinion that the announcement
+should be sent _only_ to those people who are really _in_ society.
+[_She sits near the table._ CYNTHIA _braces herself to bear the_
+PHILLIMORE _conversation._
+
+GRACE. I wish you'd make an exception of the Dudleys.
+
+            [CYNTHIA _rises and moves to the chair by the table._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. And, of course, that excludes the Oppenheims--the
+Vance-Browns.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. It's just as well to be exclusive.
+
+GRACE. I do wish you'd make an exception of Lena Dudley.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. We might, of course, include those new Girardos, and
+possibly--possibly the Paddingtons.
+
+GRACE. I do wish you would take in Lena Dudley.
+
+            [_They are now sitting._
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. The mother Dudley is as common as a charwoman, and
+not nearly as clean.
+
+PHILIP. [_Sighing, his own feelings, as usual, to the fore._] Ah! I
+certainly am fatigued!
+
+    CYNTHIA _begins to slowly crush the newspaper she has been
+    reading with both hands, as if the effort of self-repression
+    were too much for her._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Making the best of a gloomy future._] We shall have to
+ask the Dudleys sooner or later to dine, Mary--because of the elder
+girl's marriage to that dissolute French Marquis.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Plaintively._] I don't like common people any more
+than I like common cats, and of course in my time--
+
+MISS HENEAGE. I think I shall include the Dudleys.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. You think you'll include the Dudleys?
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Yes, I think I will include the Dudleys!
+
+    _Here_ CYNTHIA'S _control breaks down. Driven desperate by
+    their chatter, she has slowly rolled her newspaper into a
+    ball, and at this point tosses it violently to the floor and
+    bursts into hysterical laughter._
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. Why, my dear Cynthia--Compose yourself.
+
+PHILIP. [_Hastily._] What is the matter, Cynthia?
+
+            [_They speak together._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Why, Mrs. Karslake, what is the matter?
+
+GRACE. [_Coming quickly forward._] Mrs. Karslake!
+
+
+            CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+    SCENE. MRS. VIDA PHILLIMORE'S _boudoir. The room is furnished
+    to please an empty-headed, pleasure-loving and fashionable
+    woman. The furniture, the ornaments, what pictures there are,
+    all witness to taste up-to-date. Two French windows open on
+    to a balcony, from which the trees of Central Park can be
+    seen. There is a table between them; a mirror, a scent
+    bottle, &c., upon it. On the right, up stage, is a door; on
+    the right, down stage, another door. A lady's writing-table
+    stands between the two, nearer centre of stage. There is
+    another door up stage; below it, an open fireplace, filled
+    with potted plants, andirons, &c., not in use. Over it is a
+    tall mirror; on the mantel-piece are a French clock,
+    candelabra, vases, &c. On a line with the fireplace is a
+    lounge, gay with silk pillows. A florist's box, large and
+    long, filled with American Beauty roses, rests on a low table
+    near the head of the lounge. Small tables and light chairs
+    where needed._
+
+    BENSON, _alone in the room, is looking critically about her.
+    She is a neat and pretty little English lady's maid in black
+    silk and a thin apron. Still surveying the room, she moves
+    here and there, and, her eyes lighting on the box of flowers,
+    she goes to the door of_ VIDA'S _room and speaks to her._
+
+BENSON. Yes, ma'am, the flowers have come.
+
+    _She holds open the door through which_ VIDA, _in a morning
+    gown, comes in slowly. She is smoking a cigarette in as
+    æsthetic a manner as she can, and is evidently turned out in
+    her best style for conquest._
+
+VIDA. [_Faces the balcony as she speaks, and is, as always, even and
+civil, but a bit disdainful toward her servant._] Terribly garish
+light, Benson. Pull down the-- [BENSON, _obeying, partly pulls down
+the shade._] Lower still--that will do. [_As she speaks she goes about
+the room, giving the tables a push here and the chairs a jerk there,
+and generally arranging the vases and ornaments._] Men hate a clutter
+of chairs and tables. [_Stopping and taking up a hand mirror from the
+table, she faces the windows._] I really think I'm too pale for this
+light.
+
+BENSON. [_Quickly, understanding what is implied._] Yes, ma'am.
+[BENSON _goes out for the rouge, and_ VIDA _seats herself at the
+table. There is a knock at the door._] Come! [BROOKS _comes in._
+
+BROOKS. [_An ultra-English footman, in plush and calves._] Any
+horders, m'lady?
+
+VIDA. [_Incapable of remembering the last man, or of considering the
+new one._] Oh,--of course! You're the new--
+
+BROOKS. Footman, m'lady.
+
+VIDA. [_As a matter of form._] Your name?
+
+BROOKS. Brooks, m'lady. [BENSON _returns with the rouge._
+
+VIDA. [_Carefully giving instructions while she keeps her eyes on the
+glass and is rouged by_ BENSON.] Brooks, I am at home to Mr. Karslake
+at eleven; not to any one else till twelve, when I expect Sir Wilfrid
+Cates-Darby.
+
+            [BROOKS, _watching_ BENSON, _is inattentive._
+
+BROOKS. Yes, m'lady.
+
+VIDA. [_Calm, but wearied by the ignorance of the lower classes._] And
+I regret to inform you, Brooks, that in America there are no ladies,
+except salesladies!
+
+BROOKS. [_Without a trace of comprehension._] Yes, m'lady.
+
+VIDA. I am at home to no one but the two names I have mentioned.
+[BROOKS _bows and exits. She dabs on rouge while_ BENSON _holds
+glass._] Is the men's club-room in order?
+
+BENSON. Perfectly, ma'am.
+
+VIDA. Whiskey and soda?
+
+BENSON. Yes, ma'am, and the ticker's been mended. The British sporting
+papers arrived this morning.
+
+VIDA. [_Looking at her watch which lies on the dressing-table._] My
+watch has stopped.
+
+BENSON. [_Glancing at the French clock on the chimney-piece._] Five to
+eleven, ma'am.
+
+VIDA. [_Getting promptly to work._] H'm, h'm, I shall be caught.
+[_Rising._] The box of roses, Benson! [BENSON _brings the box of
+roses, uncovers the flowers and places them at_ VIDA'S _side._] My
+gloves--the clippers, and the vase! [_Each of these things_ BENSON
+_places in turn within_ VIDA'S _range where she sits on the sofa. She
+has the long box of roses at her side on a small table, a vase of
+water on the floor by her side. She cuts the stems and places the
+roses in the vase. When she feels that she has reached a picturesque
+position, in which any onlooker would see in her a creature filled
+with the love of flowers and of her fellow man, she says:_] There!
+[_The door opens and_ BROOKS _comes in;_ VIDA _nods to_ BENSON.
+
+BROOKS. [_Announcing stolidly._] Sir John Karslake.
+
+    JOHN, _dressed in very nobby riding togs, comes in gaily and
+    forcibly._ BENSON _withdraws as he enters, and is followed
+    by_ BROOKS. VIDA, _from this moment on, is busied with her
+    roses._
+
+VIDA. [_Languorously, but with a faint suggestion of humour._] Is that
+really you, Sir John?
+
+JOHN. [_Lively and far from being impressed by_ VIDA.] I see now where
+we Americans are going to get our titles. Good-morning! You look as
+fresh as paint. [_He lays his gloves and riding crop on the table, and
+takes a chair._
+
+VIDA. [_Facing the insinuation with gentle pain._] I hope you don't
+mean that? I never flattered myself for a moment you'd come. You're
+riding Cynthia K?
+
+JOHN. Fiddler's going to lead her round here in ten minutes!
+
+VIDA. Cigars and cigarettes! Scotch?
+
+            [_Indicating a small table._
+
+JOHN. Scotch! [_Goes up quickly to table and helps himself to Scotch
+and seltzer._
+
+VIDA. And now _do_ tell me all about _her_! [_Putting in her last
+roses; she keeps one rosebud in her hand, of a size suitable for a
+man's buttonhole._
+
+JOHN. [_As he drinks._] Oh, she's an adorable creature--delicate,
+high-bred, sweet-tempered--
+
+VIDA. [_Showing her claws for a moment._] Sweet-tempered? Oh, you're
+describing the horse! By "her," I meant--
+
+JOHN. [_Irritated by the remembrance of his wife._] Cynthia Karslake?
+I'd rather talk about the last Tornado.
+
+            [_He drops moodily into a chair._
+
+VIDA. [_With artful soothing._] There is only one thing I want to talk
+about, and that is, _you_! Why were you unhappy?
+
+JOHN. [_Still cross._] Why does a dollar last such a short time?
+
+VIDA. [_Curious._] Why did you part?
+
+JOHN. Did you ever see a schooner towed by a tug? Well, I parted from
+Cynthia for the same reason that the hawser parts from the tug--I
+couldn't stand the tug.
+
+VIDA. [_Sympathizing._] Ah!
+
+JOHN. [_After a pause, and still cross._] Awful cheerful morning chat.
+
+VIDA. [_Excusing her curiosity and coming back to love as the only
+subject for serious conversation._] I must hear the story, for I'm
+anxious to know why I've taken such a fancy to you!
+
+JOHN. [_Very nonchalantly._] Why do _I_ like you?
+
+VIDA. [_Doing her best to charm._] I won't tell you--it would flatter
+you too much.
+
+JOHN. [_Not a bit impressed by_ VIDA, _but humanly ready to flirt._]
+Tell me!
+
+VIDA. There's a rose for you.
+
+            [_Giving him the one she has in her hand._
+
+JOHN. [_Saying what is plainly expected of him._] I want more than a
+rose--
+
+VIDA. [_Passing over this insinuation._] You refuse to tell me--?
+
+JOHN. [_Once more reminded of_ CYNTHIA, _speaks with sudden feeling._]
+There's nothing to tell. We met, we loved, we married, we parted; or
+at least we wrangled and jangled. [_Sighs._] Ha! Why weren't we happy?
+Don't ask me, why! It may have been _partly_ my fault!
+
+VIDA. [_With tenderness._] Never!
+
+JOHN. [_His mind on_ CYNTHIA.] But I believe it's all in the way a
+girl's brought up. Our girls are brought up to be ignorant of
+life--they're ignorant of life. Life is a joke, and marriage is a
+picnic, and a man is a shawl-strap--'Pon my soul, Cynthia Deane--no,
+I can't tell you! [_In great irritation, he rises abruptly, and
+strides up and down the room._
+
+VIDA. [_Gently._] Please tell me!
+
+JOHN. Well, she was an heiress, an American heiress--and she'd been
+taught to think marriage meant burnt almonds and moonshine and a yacht
+and three automobiles, and she thought--I don't know what she thought,
+but I tell you, Mrs. Phillimore, marriage is three parts love and
+seven parts forgiveness of sins. [_He continues restlessly to pace the
+floor as he speaks of_ CYNTHIA.
+
+VIDA. [_Flattering him as a matter of second nature._] She never loved
+you.
+
+JOHN. [_On whom she has made no impression at all._] Yes, she did. For
+six or seven months there was not a shadow between us. It was perfect,
+and then one day she went off like a pistol-shot! I had a piece of law
+work and couldn't take her to see Flashlight race the Maryland mare.
+The case meant a big fee, big Kudos, and in sails Cynthia,
+Flashlight-mad! And will I put on my hat and take her? No--and bang
+she goes off like a stick o' dynamite--what did I marry her for?--and
+words--pretty high words, until she got mad, when she threw over a
+chair, and said, oh, well,--marriage was a failure, or it was with
+me, so I said she'd better try somebody else. She said she would, and
+marched out of the room.
+
+VIDA. [_Gently sarcastic._] But she came back!
+
+JOHN. She came back, but not as you mean. She stood at the door and
+said, "Jack, I shall divorce you." Then she came over to my
+study-table, dropped her wedding ring on my law papers, and went out.
+The door shut, I laughed; the front door slammed, I damned. [_After a
+silence, moving abruptly to the window._] She never came back. [_He
+turns away and then, recovering, moves toward_ VIDA, _who catches his
+hands._
+
+VIDA. [_Hoping for a contradiction._] She's broken your heart.
+
+JOHN. [_Taking a chair by the lounge._] Oh, no!
+
+VIDA. [_Encouraged, begins to play the game again._] You'll never love
+again!
+
+JOHN. [_Speaking to her from the foot of the sofa._] Try me! Try me!
+Ah, no, Mrs. Phillimore, I shall laugh, live, love and make money
+again! And let me tell you one thing--I'm going to rap her one over
+the knuckles. She had a stick of a Connecticut lawyer, and he--well,
+to cut a legal story short, since Mrs. Karslake's been in Europe, I
+have been quietly testing the validity of the decree of divorce.
+Perhaps you don't understand?
+
+VIDA. [_Displaying her innate shrewdness._] Oh, about a divorce,
+everything!
+
+JOHN. I shall hear by this evening whether the divorce will stand or
+not.
+
+VIDA. But it's to-day at three she marries--you won't let her commit
+bigamy?
+
+JOHN. [_Shaking his head._] I don't suppose I'd go as far as that. It
+may be the divorce will hold, but anyway I hope never to see her
+again.
+
+    [_He sits down beside her so that their faces are now
+    directly opposite. Taking advantage of the close range, her
+    eyes, without loss of time, open a direct fire._
+
+VIDA. Ah, my poor boy, she has broken your heart. [_Believing that
+this is her psychological moment, she lays her hand on his arm, but
+draws it back as soon as he attempts to take it._] Now don't make love
+to me.
+
+JOHN. [_Bold and amused, but never taken in._] Why not?
+
+VIDA. [_With immense gentleness._] Because I like you too much! [_More
+gaily._] I might give in, and take a notion to like you still more!
+
+JOHN. Please do!
+
+VIDA. [_With gush, and determined to be womanly at all hazards._]
+Jack, I believe you'd be a lovely lover!
+
+JOHN. [_Immensely diverted._] Try me!
+
+VIDA. [_Not hoping much from his tone._] You charming, tempting,
+delightful fellow, I could love you without the least effort in the
+world,--but, no!
+
+JOHN. [_Playing the game._] Ah, well, now _seriously!_ Between two
+people who have _suffered_ and made their own mistakes--
+
+VIDA. [_Playing the game too, but not playing it well._] But you see,
+you don't _really_ love me!
+
+JOHN. [_Still ready to say what is expected._] Cynthia--Vida, no man
+can sit beside you and look into your eyes without feeling--
+
+VIDA. [_Speaking the truth as she sees it, seeing that her methods
+don't succeed._] Oh! That's not love! That's simply--well, my dear
+Jack, it's beginning at the wrong end. And the truth is you hate
+Cynthia Karslake with such a whole-hearted hate, that you haven't a
+moment to think of any other woman.
+
+JOHN. [_With sudden anger._] I hate her!
+
+VIDA. [_Very softly and most sweetly._] Jack--Jack, I could be as
+foolish about you as--oh, as foolish as anything, my dear! And perhaps
+some day--perhaps some day you'll come to me and say, Vida, I am
+totally indifferent to Cynthia--and then--
+
+JOHN. And then?
+
+VIDA. [_The ideal woman in mind._] Then, perhaps, you and I may join
+hands and stroll together into the Garden of Eden. It takes two to
+find the Garden of Eden, you know--and once we're on the inside, we'll
+lock the gate.
+
+JOHN. [_Gaily, and seeing straight through her veneer._] And lose the
+key under a rose-bush!
+
+VIDA. [_Agreeing very softly._] Under a rose-bush! [_There is a very
+soft knock at which_ JOHN _starts up quickly._] Come! [BROOKS _comes
+in, with_ BENSON _close at his heels._
+
+BROOKS. [_Stolid, announces._] My lady--Sir Wilf-- [BENSON _stops him
+with a sharp movement and turns toward_ VIDA.
+
+BENSON. [_With intention._] Your dressmaker, ma'am. [BENSON _waves_
+BROOKS _to go and_ BROOKS _very haughtily complies._
+
+VIDA. [_Wonderingly._] My dressmaker, Benson? [_With quick
+intelligence._] Oh, of course, show her up. Mr. Karslake, you won't
+mind for a few minutes using my men's club-room? Benson will show
+you! You'll find cigars and the ticker, sporting papers, whiskey; and,
+if you want anything special, just 'phone down to my "chef."
+
+JOHN. [_Looking at his watch._] How long?
+
+VIDA. [_Very anxious to please._] Half a cigar! Benson will call you.
+
+JOHN. [_Practically-minded._] Don't make it too long. You see, there's
+my sheriff's sale on at twelve, and those races this afternoon.
+Fiddler will be here in ten minutes, remember!
+
+            [_The door opens._
+
+VIDA. [_To_ JOHN.] Run along! [JOHN _leaves and_ VIDA, _instantly
+practical, makes a broad gesture to_ BENSON.] Everything just as it
+was, Benson! [BENSON _whisks the roses out of the vase and replaces
+them in the box. She gives_ VIDA _scissors and empty vases, and, when_
+VIDA _finds herself in precisely the same position which preceded_
+JOHN'S _entrance, she says:_] There!
+
+            [BROOKS _comes in as_ VIDA _takes a rose from basket._
+
+BROOKS. [_With characteristic stolidness._] Your ladyship's
+dressmaker! M'lady! [_Enter_ SIR WILFRID _in morning suit,
+boutonnière, &c._
+
+VIDA. [_With tender surprise and busy with the roses._] Is that really
+you, Sir Wilfrid! I never flattered myself for an instant that you'd
+remember to come.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Moving to the head of the sofa._] Come? 'Course I come!
+Keen to come see you. By Jove, you know, you look as pink and white as
+a huntin' mornin'.
+
+VIDA. [_Ready to make any man as happy as possible._] You'll smoke?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Thanks! [_He watches her as she trims and arranges the
+flowers._] Awfully long fingers you have! Wish I was a rose, or a
+ring, or a pair of shears! I say, d'you ever notice what a devil of a
+fellow I am for originality, what? [_Unlike_ JOHN, _is evidently
+impressed by her._] You've got a delicate little den up here! Not so
+much low livin' and high thinkin', as low lights and no thinkin' at
+all, I hope--eh?
+
+    [_By this time_, VIDA _has filled a vase with roses and rises
+    to sweep by him and, if possible, make another charming
+    picture to his eyes._
+
+VIDA. [_Gliding gracefully past him._] You don't mind my moving about?
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Impressed._] Not if you don't mind my watchin'.
+[_Sitting down on the sofa._] And sayin' how wel you do it.
+
+VIDA. It's most original of you to come here this morning. I don't
+quite see why you did.
+
+    _She places the roses here and there, as if to see their
+    effect, and leaves them on a small table near the door
+    through which her visitors entered._
+
+SIR WILFRID. Admiration.
+
+VIDA. [_Sauntering slowly toward the mirror as she speaks._] Oh, I saw
+that you admired her! And of course, she did say she was coming here
+at eleven! But that was only bravado! She won't come, and besides,
+I've given orders to admit no one!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Attempting to dam the stream of her talk which flows
+gently but steadily on._] May I ask you--
+
+VIDA. And, indeed, if she came now, Mr. Karslake has gone, and her
+sole object in coming was to make him uncomfortable. [_She moves
+toward the table, stopping a half minute at the mirror to see that she
+looks as she wishes to look._] Very dangerous symptom, too, that
+passionate desire to make one's former husband unhappy! But, I can't
+believe that your admiration for Cynthia Karslake is so warm that it
+led you to pay me this visit a half hour too early in the hope of
+seeing--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Rising; most civil, but speaking his mind like a
+Briton._] I say, would you mind stopping a moment! [_She smiles._] I'm
+not an American, you know; I was brought up not to interrupt. But you
+Americans, it's different with you! If somebody didn't interrupt you,
+you'd go on forever.
+
+VIDA. [_Passing him to tantalize._] My point is you come to see
+Cynthia--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Believing she means it._] I came hopin' to see--
+
+VIDA. [_Provokingly._] Cynthia!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Perfectly single-minded and entirely taken in._] But I
+would have come even if I'd known--
+
+VIDA. [_Evading him, while he follows._] I don't believe it!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Protesting whole-heartedly._] Give you my word I--
+
+VIDA. [_Leading him on._] You're here to see _her_! And of course--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Determined to be heard because, after all, he's a
+man._] May I have the--eh--the floor? [VIDA _sits down in a chair._] I
+was jolly well bowled over with Mrs. Karslake, I admit that, and I
+hoped to see her here, but--
+
+VIDA. [_Talking nonsense and knowing it._] You had another object in
+coming. In fact, you came to see Cynthia, and you came to see me! What
+I really long to know is, why you wanted to see _me_! For, of course,
+Cynthia's to be married at three! And, if she wasn't she wouldn't have
+you!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Not intending to wound; merely speaking the flat
+truth._] Well, I mean to jolly well ask her.
+
+VIDA. [_Indignant._] To be your wife?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Why not?
+
+VIDA. [_Still indignant._] And you came here, to my house--in order to
+ask her--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Truthful even on a subtle point._] Oh, but that's only
+my first reason for coming, you know.
+
+VIDA. [_Concealing her hopes._] Well, now I _am_ curious--what is the
+second?
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Simply._] Are you feelin' pretty robust?
+
+VIDA. I don't know!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Crosses to the buffet._] Will you have something, and
+then I'll tell you!
+
+VIDA. [_Gaily._] Can't I support the news without--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Trying to explain his state of mind, a feat which he
+has never been able to accomplish._] Mrs. Phillimore, you see it's
+this way. Whenever you're lucky, you're too lucky. Now, Mrs. Karslake
+is a nipper and no mistake, but as I told you, the very same evenin'
+and house where I saw her--
+
+            [_He attempts to take her hand._
+
+VIDA. [_Gently rising and affecting a tender surprise._] What!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Rising with her._] That's it!--You're over! [_He
+suggests with his right hand the movement of a horse taking a hurdle._
+
+VIDA. [_Very sweetly._] You don't really mean--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Carried away for the moment by so much true
+womanliness._] I mean, I stayed awake for an hour last night, thinkin'
+about you.
+
+VIDA. [_Speaking to be contradicted._] But, you've just told me--that
+Cynthia--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Admitting the fact._] Well, she did--she did bowl my
+wicket, but so did you--
+
+VIDA. [_Taking him very gently to task._] Don't you think there's a
+limit to-- [_She sits down._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Roused by so much loveliness of soul._] Now, see here,
+Mrs. Phillimore! You and I are not bottle babies, eh, are we? You've
+been married and--I--I've knocked about, and we both know there's a
+lot of stuff talked about--eh, eh, well, you know:--the one and
+only--that a fellow can't be awfully well smashed by two at the same
+time, don't you know! All rubbish! You know it, and the proof of the
+puddin's in the eatin', I am!
+
+VIDA. [_With gentle reproach._] May I ask where I come in?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Well, now, Mrs. Phillimore, I'll be frank with you,
+Cynthia's my favourite, but you're runnin' her a close second in the
+popular esteem!
+
+VIDA. [_Laughing, determined not to take offense._] What a delightful,
+original, fantastic person you are!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Frankly happy that he has explained everything so
+neatly._] I knew you'd take it that way!
+
+VIDA. And what next, pray?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, just the usual,--eh,--thing,--the--eh--the same old
+question, don't you know. Will you have me if she don't?
+
+VIDA. [_A shade piqued, but determined not to risk showing it._] And
+you call that the same old usual question?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Yes, I know, but--but will you? I sail in a week; we can
+take the same boat. And--eh--eh--my dear Mrs.--mayn't I say Vida, I'd
+like to see you at the head of my table.
+
+VIDA. [_With velvet irony._] With Cynthia at the foot?
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Practical, as before._] Never mind Mrs. Karslake,--I
+admire her--she's--but you have your own points! And you're here, and
+so'm I!--damme I offer myself, and my affections, and I'm no icicle,
+my dear, tell you that for a fact, and,--and in fact what's your
+answer!-- [VIDA _sighs and shakes her head._] Make it, yes! I say, you
+know, my dear Vida--
+
+            [_He catches her hands._
+
+VIDA. [_Drawing them from his._] Unhand me, dear villain! And sit
+further away from your second choice! What can I say? I'd rather have
+_you_ for a lover than any man I know! You must be a lovely lover!
+
+SIR WILFRID. I am!
+
+            [_He makes a second effort to catch her fingers._
+
+VIDA. Will you kindly go further away and be good!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Quite forgetting_ CYNTHIA.] Look here, if you say yes,
+we'll be married--
+
+VIDA. In a month!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, no--this evening!
+
+VIDA. [_Incapable of leaving a situation unadorned._] This evening!
+And sail in the same boat with _you_? And shall we sail to the Garden
+of Eden and stroll into it and lock the gate on the inside and then
+lose the key--under a rose-bush?
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_After a pause and some consideration._] Yes; yes, I
+say--that's too clever for me! [_He draws nearer to her to bring the
+understanding to a crisis._
+
+VIDA. [_Interrupted by a soft knock._] My maid--come!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Swinging out of his chair and moving to the sofa._] Eh?
+
+BENSON. [_Coming in and approaching_ VIDA.] The new footman,
+ma'am--he's made a mistake. He's told the lady you're at home.
+
+VIDA. What lady?
+
+BENSON. Mrs. Karslake; and she's on the stairs, ma'am.
+
+VIDA. Show her in.
+
+    SIR WILFRID _has been turning over the roses. On hearing
+    this, he faces about with a long stemmed one in his hand. He
+    subsequently uses it to point his remarks._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_To_ BENSON, _who stops._] One moment! [_To_ VIDA.] I
+say, eh--I'd rather not see her!
+
+VIDA. [_Very innocently._] But you came here to see her.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_A little flustered._] I'd rather not. Eh,--I fancied
+I'd find you and her together--but her-- [_Coming a step nearer._]
+findin' me with you looks so dooced intimate,--no one else, d'ye see,
+I believe she'd--draw conclusions--
+
+BENSON. Pardon me, ma'am--but I hear Brooks coming!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_To_ BENSON.] Hold the door!
+
+VIDA. So you don't want her to know--?
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_To_ VIDA.] Be a good girl now--run me off somewhere!
+
+VIDA. [_To_ BENSON.] Show Sir Wilfrid the men's room.
+
+            [BROOKS _comes in._
+
+SIR WILFRID. The men's room! Ah! Oh! Eh!
+
+VIDA. [_Beckoning him to go at once._] Sir Wil-- [_He hesitates; then
+as_ BROOKS _advances, he flings off with_ BENSON.
+
+BROOKS. Lady Karslake, milady!
+
+VIDA. Anything more inopportune! I never dreamed she'd come-- [CYNTHIA
+_comes in veiled. As she walks quickly into the room_, VIDA _greets
+her languorously._] My dear Cynthia, you don't mean to say--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Rather short, and visibly agitated._] Yes, I've come.
+
+VIDA. [_Polite, but not urgent._] Do take off your veil.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Complying._] Is no one here?
+
+VIDA. [_As before._] Won't you sit down?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Agitated and suspicious._] Thanks, no--That is, yes,
+thanks. Yes! You haven't answered my question?
+
+    [CYNTHIA _waves her hand through the haze; glances
+    suspiciously at the smoke, and looks about for the
+    cigarette._
+
+VIDA. [_Playing innocence in the first degree._] My dear, what makes
+you imagine that any one's here!
+
+CYNTHIA. You've been smoking.
+
+VIDA. Oh, puffing away! [CYNTHIA _sees the glasses._
+
+CYNTHIA. And drinking--a pair of drinks? [_Her eyes lighting on_
+JOHN'S _gloves on the table at her elbow._] Do they fit you, dear?
+[VIDA _smiles;_ CYNTHIA _picks up the crop and looks at it and reads
+her own name._] "Jack, from Cynthia."
+
+VIDA. [_Without taking the trouble to double for a mere woman._] Yes,
+dear; it's Mr. Karslake's crop, but I'm happy to say he left me a few
+minutes ago.
+
+CYNTHIA. He left the house? [VIDA _smiles._] I wanted to see him.
+
+VIDA. [_With a shade of insolence._] To quarrel?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Frank and curt._] I wanted to see him.
+
+VIDA. [_Determined to put_ CYNTHIA _in the wrong._] And I sent him
+away because I didn't want you to repeat the scene of last night in my
+house.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Looks at crop and is silent._] Well, I can't stay. I'm to
+be married at three, and I had to play truant to get here!
+
+            [BENSON _comes in._
+
+BENSON. [_To_ VIDA.] There's a person, ma'am, on the sidewalk.
+
+VIDA. What person, Benson?
+
+BENSON. A person, ma'am, with a horse.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Happily agitated._] It's Fiddler with Cynthia K!
+
+            [_She walks rapidly to the window and looks out._
+
+VIDA. [_To_ BENSON.] Tell the man I'll be down in five minutes.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Looking down from the balcony with delight._] Oh, there she
+is!
+
+VIDA. [_Aside to_ BENSON.] Go to the club-room, Benson, and say to the
+two gentlemen I can't see them at present--I'll send for them when--
+
+BENSON. [_Listening._] I hear some one coming.
+
+VIDA. Quick! [BENSON _leaves the door which opens and_ JOHN _comes in
+slowly, carelessly._ VIDA _whispers to_ BENSON.
+
+BENSON. [_Moving close to_ JOHN _and whispering._] Beg par--
+
+VIDA. [_Under her breath._] Go back!
+
+JOHN. [_Not understanding._] I beg pardon!
+
+VIDA. [_Scarcely above a whisper._] Go back!
+
+JOHN. [_Dense._] Can't! I've a date! With the sheriff!
+
+VIDA. [_A little cross._] Please use your eyes.
+
+JOHN. [_Laughing and flattering_ VIDA.] I am using my eyes.
+
+VIDA. [_Fretted._] Don't you see there's a lovely creature in the
+room?
+
+JOHN. [_Not knowing what it is all about, but taking a wicked delight
+in seeing her customary calm ruffled._] Of course there is.
+
+VIDA. Hush!
+
+JOHN. [_Teasingly._] But what I want to know is--
+
+VIDA. Hush!
+
+JOHN. [_Enjoying his fun._] --is when we're to stroll in the Garden of
+Eden--
+
+VIDA. Hush!
+
+JOHN. --and lose the key. [_To put a stop to this, she lightly tosses
+her handkerchief into his face._] By George, talk about attar of
+roses!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_At window, excited and moved at seeing her mare once
+more._] Oh, she's a darling! [_Turning._] A perfect darling! [JOHN
+_starts up; he sees_ CYNTHIA _at the same instant that she sees him._]
+Oh! I didn't know you were here. [_After a pause, with
+"take-it-or-leave-it" frankness._] I came to see _you_! [JOHN _looks
+extremely dark and angry;_ VIDA _rises._
+
+VIDA. [_To_ CYNTHIA, _most gently, and seeing there's nothing to be
+gained of_ JOHN.] Oh, pray feel at home, Cynthia, dear! [_Stopping by
+the door to her bedroom; to_ JOHN.] When I've a nice street frock on,
+I'll ask you to present me to Cynthia K. [VIDA _opens the door and
+goes out._ CYNTHIA _and_ JOHN _involuntarily exchange glances._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Agitated and frank._] Of course, I told you yesterday I was
+coming here.
+
+JOHN. [_Irritated._] And I was to deny myself the privilege of being
+here?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Curt and agitated._] Yes.
+
+JOHN. [_Ready to fight._] And you guessed I would do that?
+
+CYNTHIA. No.
+
+JOHN. What?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Speaks with agitation, frankness and good will._] Jack--I
+mean, Mr. Karslake,--no, I mean, Jack! I came because--well, you see,
+it's my wedding day!--and--and--I--I--was rude to you last evening.
+I'd like to apologize and make peace with you before I go--
+
+JOHN. [_Determined to be disagreeable._] Before you go to your last,
+long home!
+
+CYNTHIA. I came to apologize.
+
+JOHN. But you'll remain to quarrel!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Still frank and kind._] I will not quarrel. No!--and I'm
+only here for a moment. I'm to be married at three, and just look at
+the clock! Besides, I told Philip I was going to Louise's shop, and I
+did--on the way here; but, you see, if I stay too long he'll telephone
+Louise and find I'm not there, and he might guess I was here. So you
+see I'm risking a scandal. And now, Jack, see here, I lay my hand on
+the table, I'm here on the square, and,--what I want to say is,
+why--Jack, even if we have made a mess of our married life, let's put
+by anger and pride. It's all over now and can't be helped. So let's be
+human, let's be reasonable, and let's be kind to each other! Won't you
+give me your hand? [JOHN _refuses._] I wish you every happiness!
+
+JOHN. [_Turning away, the past rankling._] I had a client once, a
+murderer; he told me he murdered the man, and he told me, too, that he
+never felt so kindly to anybody as he did to that man after he'd
+killed him!
+
+CYNTHIA. Jack!
+
+JOHN. [_Unforgiving._] You murdered my happiness!
+
+CYNTHIA. I won't recriminate!
+
+JOHN. And now I must put by anger and pride! I do! But not
+self-respect, not a just indignation--not the facts and my clear
+memory of them!
+
+CYNTHIA. Jack!
+
+JOHN. No!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With growing emotion, and holding out her hand._] I give
+you one more chance! Yes, I'm determined to be generous. I forgive
+everything you ever did to me. I'm ready to be friends. I wish you
+every happiness and every--every--horse in the world! I can't do more
+than that! [_She offers it again._] You refuse?
+
+JOHN. [_Moved but surly._] I like wildcats and I like Christians, but
+I don't like Christian wildcats! Now I'm close hauled, trot out your
+tornado! Let the Tiger loose! It's the tamer, the man in the cage that
+has to look lively and use the red hot crowbar! But, by Jove, I'm out
+of the cage! I'm a mere spectator of the married circus! [_He puffs
+vigorously._
+
+CYNTHIA. Be a game sport then! Our marriage was a wager; you wagered
+you could live with me. You lost; you paid with a divorce; and now is
+the time to show your sporting blood. Come on, shake hands and part
+friends.
+
+JOHN. Not in this world! Friends with you, no! I have a proper pride.
+I don't propose to put my pride in my pocket.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Jealous and plain spoken._] Oh, I wouldn't ask you to put
+your pride in your pocket while Vida's handkerchief is there. [JOHN
+_looks angered._] Pretty little bijou of a handkerchief! [_Pulling out
+the handkerchief._] And she is charming, and divorced, and reasonably
+well made up.
+
+JOHN. Oh, well, Vida is a woman. [_Toying with the handkerchief._] I'm
+a man, a handkerchief is a handkerchief, and, as some old Aristotle or
+other said, whatever concerns a woman, concerns me!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Not oblivious of him, but in a low voice._] Insufferable!
+Well, yes. [_She sits down. She is too much wounded to make any
+further appeal._] You're perfectly right. There's no possible harmony
+between divorced people! I withdraw my hand and all good feeling. No
+wonder I couldn't stand you. Eh? However, that's pleasantly past! But
+at least, my dear Karslake, let us have some sort of beauty behaviour!
+If we cannot be decent, let us endeavour to be graceful. If we can't
+be moral, at least we can avoid being vulgar.
+
+JOHN. Well--
+
+CYNTHIA. If there's to be no more marriage in the world--
+
+JOHN. [_Cynically._] Oh, but that's not it; there's to be more and
+more and more!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With a touch of bitterness._] Very well! I repeat then, if
+there's to be nothing but marriage and divorce, and re-marriage, and
+re-divorce, at least, at least, those who _are_ divorced can avoid the
+vulgarity of meeting each other here, there, and everywhere!
+
+JOHN. Oh, that's where you come out!
+
+CYNTHIA. I thought so yesterday, and to-day I know it. It's an
+insufferable thing to a woman of any delicacy of feeling to find her
+husband--
+
+JOHN. Ahem--former!
+
+CYNTHIA. _Once_ a husband always--
+
+JOHN. [_In the same cynical tone._] Oh, no! Oh, dear, no.
+
+CYNTHIA. To find her--to find the man she has once lived with--in the
+house of--making love to--to find you here! [JOHN _smiles and rises._]
+You smile,--but I say, it should be a social axiom, no woman should
+have to meet her former husband.
+
+JOHN. [_Cynical and cutting._] Oh, I don't know; after I've served my
+term I don't mind meeting my jailor.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_As_ JOHN _takes chair near her._] It's indecent--at the
+horse-show, the opera, at races and balls, to meet the man who
+once--It's not civilized! It's fantastic! It's half baked! Oh, I never
+should have come here! [_He sympathizes, and she grows irrational and
+furious._] But it's entirely your fault!
+
+JOHN. My fault?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Working herself into a rage._] Of course. What business
+have you to be about--to be at large. To be at all!
+
+JOHN. Gosh!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Her rage increasing._] To be where I am! Yes, it's just as
+horrible for you to turn up in my life as it would be for a dead
+person to insist on coming back to life and dinner and bridge!
+
+JOHN. Horrid idea!
+
+CYNTHIA. Yes, but it's _you_ who behave just as if you were not dead,
+just as if I'd not spent a fortune on your funeral. You do; you
+prepare to bob up at afternoon teas,--and dinners--and embarrass me to
+death with your extinct personality!
+
+JOHN. Well, of course we _were_ married, but it didn't quite kill me.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Angry and plain spoken._] You killed yourself for me--I
+divorced you. I buried you out of my life. If any human soul was ever
+dead, you are! And there's nothing I so hate as a gibbering ghost.
+
+JOHN. Oh, I say!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With hot anger._] Go gibber and squeak where gibbering and
+squeaking are the fashion!
+
+JOHN. [_Laughing and pretending to a coldness he does not feel._] And
+so, my dear child, I'm to abate myself as a nuisance! Well, as far as
+seeing you is concerned, for my part it's just like seeing a horse
+who's chucked you once. The bruises are O. K., and you see him with a
+sort of easy curiosity. Of course, you know, he'll jolly well chuck
+the next man!--Permit me! [JOHN _picks up her gloves, handkerchief and
+parasol, and gives her these as she drops them one by one in her
+agitation._] There's pleasure in the thought.
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh!
+
+JOHN. And now, may I ask you a very simple question? Mere curiosity on
+my part, but, why did you come here this morning?
+
+CYNTHIA. I have already explained that to you.
+
+JOHN. Not your real motive. Permit me!
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh!
+
+JOHN. But I believe I have guessed your real--permit me--your real
+motive!
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh!
+
+JOHN. [_With mock sympathy._] Cynthia, I am sorry for you.
+
+CYNTHIA. H'm?
+
+JOHN. Of course we had a pretty lively case of the fever--the mutual
+attraction fever, and we _were_ married a very short time. And I
+conclude that's what's the matter with _you_! You see, my dear, seven
+months of married life is too short a time to cure a bad case of the
+fancies.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_In angry surprise._] What?
+
+JOHN. [_Calm and triumphant._] That's my diagnosis.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Slowly and gathering herself together._] I don't think I
+understand.
+
+JOHN. Oh, yes, you do; yes, you do.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With blazing eyes._] What do you mean?
+
+JOHN. Would you mind not breaking my crop! Thank you! I mean [_With
+polite impertinence._] that ours was a case of premature divorce, and,
+ahem, you're in love with me still.
+
+    _He pauses._ CYNTHIA _has one moment of fury, then she
+    realizes at what a disadvantage this places her. She makes an
+    immense effort, recovers her calm, thinks hard for a moment
+    more, and then, has suddenly an inspiration._
+
+CYNTHIA. Jack, some day you'll get the blind staggers from conceit.
+No, I'm not in love with you, Mr. Karslake, but I shouldn't be at all
+surprised if she were. She's just your sort, you know. She's a
+man-eating shark, and you'll be a toothsome mouthful. Oh, come now,
+Jack, what a silly you are! Oh, yes, you are, to get off a joke like
+that; me--in love with--
+
+            [_She looks at him._
+
+JOHN. Why are you here? [_She laughs and begins to play her game._]
+Why are you here?
+
+CYNTHIA. Guess! [_She laughs._
+
+JOHN. Why are you--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Quickly._] Why am I here! I'll tell you. I'm going to be
+married. I had a longing, an irresistible longing to see you make an
+ass of yourself just once more! It happened!
+
+JOHN. [_Uncertain and discomfited._] I know better!
+
+CYNTHIA. But I came for a serious purpose, too. I came, my dear
+fellow, to make an experiment on myself. I've been with you thirty
+minutes; and-- [_She sighs with content._] It's all right!
+
+JOHN. What's all right?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Calm and apparently at peace with the world._] I'm immune.
+
+JOHN. Immune?
+
+CYNTHIA. You're not catching any more! Yes, you see, I said to myself,
+if I fly into a temper--
+
+JOHN. You did!
+
+CYNTHIA. If I fly into a temper when I see him, well, that shows I'm
+not yet so entirely convalescent that I can afford to have Jack
+Karslake at my house. If I remain calm I shall ask him to dinner.
+
+JOHN. [_Routed._] Ask me if you dare! [_He rises._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Getting the whip hand for good._] Ask you to dinner? Oh, my
+dear fellow. [JOHN _rises._] I'm going to do much more than that.
+[_She rises._] We must be friends, old man! We must meet, we must meet
+often, we must show New York the way the thing should be done, and, to
+show you I mean it--I want you to be my best man, and give me away
+when I'm married this afternoon.
+
+JOHN. [_Incredulous and impatient._] You don't mean that!
+
+            [_He pushes back his chair._
+
+CYNTHIA. There you are! Always suspicious!
+
+JOHN. You don't mean that!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Hiding her emotion under a sportswoman's manner._] Don't I?
+I ask you, come! And come as you are! And I'll lay my wedding gown to
+Cynthia K that you won't be there! If you're there, you get the gown,
+and if you're not, I get Cynthia K!--
+
+JOHN. [_Determined not to be worsted._] I take it!
+
+CYNTHIA. Done! Now, then, we'll see which of us two is the real
+sporting goods! Shake! [_They shake hands on it._] Would you mind
+letting me have a plain soda? [JOHN _goes to the table, and, as he is
+rattled and does not regard what he is about, he fills the glass
+three-fourths full with whiskey. He gives this to_ CYNTHIA _who looks
+him in the eye with an air of triumph._] Thanks. [_Maliciously, as_
+VIDA _enters._] Your hand is a bit shaky. I think _you_ need a little
+King William. [JOHN _shrugs his shoulders, and, as_ VIDA _immediately
+speaks,_ CYNTHIA _defers drinking._
+
+VIDA. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] My dear, I'm sorry to tell you your husband--I
+mean, my husband--I mean Philip--he's asking for you over the 'phone.
+You must have said you were coming here. Of course, I told him you
+were not here, and hung up.
+
+BENSON. [_Entering hurriedly and at once moving to_ VIDA.] Ma'am, the
+new footman's been talking with Mr. Phillimore on the wire. [VIDA,
+_gesture of regret._] He told Mr. Phillimore that his lady was here,
+and, if I can believe my ears, ma'am, he's got Sir Wilfrid on the
+'phone now!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Making his appearance, perplexed and annoyed._] I say,
+y' know--extraordinary country; that old chap, Phillimore, he's been
+damned impertinent over the wire! Says I've run off with Mrs.
+Karslake--talks about "Louise!" Now, who the dooce is Louise? He's
+comin' round here, too--I said Mrs. Karslake wasn't here-- [_Seeing_
+CYNTHIA.] Hello! Good job! What a liar I am!
+
+BENSON. [_Coming to the door. To_ VIDA.] Mr. Fiddler, ma'am, says the
+mare is gettin' very restive.
+
+    [JOHN _hears this and moves at once_. BENSON _withdraws._
+
+JOHN. [_To_ VIDA.] If that mare's restive, she'll break out in a rash.
+
+VIDA. [_To_ JOHN.] Will you take me?
+
+JOHN. Of course. [_They go to the door._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_To_ JOHN.] Tata, old man! Meet you at the altar! If I
+don't, the mare's mine!
+
+            [SIR WILFRID _looks at her amazed._
+
+VIDA. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Do the honours, dear, in my absence!
+
+JOHN. Come along, come along, never mind them! A horse is a horse!
+
+    JOHN _and_ VIDA _go out gaily and in haste. At the same
+    moment_ CYNTHIA _drinks what she supposes to be her glass of
+    plain soda. As it is whiskey straight, she is seized with
+    astonishment and a fit of coughing._ SIR WILFRID _relieves
+    her of the glass._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Indicating the contents of the glass._] I say, do you
+ordinarily take it as high up--as seven fingers and two thumbs.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Coughing._] Jack poured it out. Just shows how groggy he
+was! And now, Sir Wilfrid--
+
+            [_She gets her things to go._
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, you can't go!
+
+            [BROOKS _appears at the door._
+
+CYNTHIA. I am to be married at three.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Let him wait. [_Aside to_ BROOKS, _whom he meets near the
+door._] If Mr. Phillimore comes, bring his card up.
+
+BROOKS. [_Going._] Yes, Sir Wilfrid.
+
+SIR WILFRID. To me! [_Tipping him._
+
+BROOKS. [_Bowing._] To you, Sir Wilfrid. [BROOKS _goes._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Returning to_ CYNTHIA.] I've got to have my innings, y'
+know! [_Looking at her more closely._] I say, you've been crying!--
+
+CYNTHIA. King William!
+
+SIR WILFRID. You _are_ crying! Poor little gal!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Tears in her eyes._] I feel all shaken and cold.
+
+            [BROOKS _returns with a card._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Astonished and sympathetic._] Poor little gal.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Her eyes wet._] I didn't sleep a wink last night. [_With
+disgust._] Oh, what is the matter with me?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Why, it's as plain as a pikestaff! You-- [BROOKS _has
+carried in the card to_ SIR WILFRED, _who picks it up and says aside,
+to_ BROOKS:] Phillimore? [BROOKS _assents. Aloud to_ CYNTHIA, _calmly
+deceitful._] Who's Waldorf Smith? [CYNTHIA _shakes her head. To_
+BROOKS, _returning card to salver._] Tell the gentleman Mrs. Karslake
+is not here! [BROOKS _leaves the room._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Aware that she has no business where she is._] I thought it
+was Philip!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Telling the truth as if it were a lie._] So did I!
+[_With cheerful confidence._] And now, Mrs. Karslake, I'll tell you
+why you're cryin'. [_Sitting down beside her._] You're marryin' the
+wrong man! I'm sorry for you, but you're such a goose. Here you are,
+marryin' this legal luminary. What for? You don't know! He don't know!
+But I do! You pretend you're marryin' him because it's the sensible
+thing; not a bit of it. You're marryin' Mr. Phillimore because of all
+the other men you ever saw he's the least like Jack Karslake.
+
+CYNTHIA. That's a very good reason.
+
+SIR WILFRID. There's only one good reason for marrying, and that is
+because you'll die if you don't!
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh, I've tried that!
+
+SIR WILFRID. The Scripture says: "Try! try! again!" I tell you,
+there's nothing like a w'im!
+
+CYNTHIA. What's that? W'im? Oh, you mean a _whim_! Do please try and
+say W_h_im!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_For the first time emphasizing his H in the word._]
+W_h_im. You must have a w'im--w'im for the chappie you marry.
+
+CYNTHIA. I had--for Jack.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Your w'im wasn't wimmy enough, my dear! If you'd had more
+of it, and tougher, it would ha' stood, y'know! Now, I'm not
+proposin'!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Diverted at last from her own distress._] I hope not!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, I will later! It's not time yet! As I was saying--
+
+CYNTHIA. And pray, Sir Wilfrid, when will it be time?
+
+SIR WILFRID. As soon as I see you have a w'im for me! [_Rising, looks
+at his watch._] And now, I'll tell you what we'll do! We've got just
+an hour to get there in, my motor's on the corner, and in fifty
+minutes we'll be at Belmont Park.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Her sporting blood fired._] Belmont Park!
+
+SIR WILFRID. We'll do the races, and dine at Martin's--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Tempted._] Oh, if I only could! I can't! I've got to be
+married! You're awfully nice; I've almost got a "w'im" for you
+already.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Delighted._] There you are! I'll send a telegram! [_She
+shakes her head. He sits and writes at the table._
+
+CYNTHIA. No, no, no!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Reading what he has written._] "Off with Cates-Darby to
+Races. Please postpone ceremony till seven-thirty."
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh, no, it's impossible!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Accustomed to have things go his way._] No more than
+breathin'! You can't get a w'im for me, you know, unless we're
+together, so together we'll be! [JOHN KARSLAKE _opens the door, and,
+unnoticed, walks into the room._] And to-morrow you'll wake up with a
+jolly little w'im--, [_Reading._] "Postpone ceremony till
+seven-thirty." There. [_He puts on her cloak and turning, sees_ JOHN.]
+Hello!
+
+JOHN. [_Surly._] Hello! Sorry to disturb you.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Cheerful as possible._] Just the man! [_Giving him the
+telegraph form._] Just step round and send it, my boy. Thanks! [JOHN
+_reads it._
+
+CYNTHIA. No, no, I can't go!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Cockety-coo-coo-can't. I say, you must!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Positively._] _No!_
+
+JOHN. [_Astounded._] Do you mean you're going--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Very gay._] Off to the races, my boy!
+
+JOHN. [_Angry and outraged._] Mrs. Karslake can't go with you there!
+
+    CYNTHIA _starts, amazed at his assumption of marital
+    authority, and delighted that she will have an opportunity of
+    outraging his sensibilities._
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oho!
+
+JOHN. An hour before her wedding!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Gay and not angry._] May I know if it's the custom--
+
+JOHN. [_Jealous and disgusted._] It's worse than eloping--
+
+SIR WILFRID. Custom, y' know, for the husband, that was, to dictate--
+
+JOHN. [_Thoroughly vexed._] By George, there's a limit!
+
+CYNTHIA. What? What? What? [_Gathering up her things._] What did I
+hear you say?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Ah!
+
+JOHN. [_Angry._] I say there's a limit--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_More and more determined to arouse and excite_ JOHN.] Oh,
+there's a limit, is there?
+
+JOHN. There is! I bar the way! It means reputation--it means--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Enjoying her opportunity._] We shall see what it means!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Aha!
+
+JOHN. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] I'm here to protect your reputation--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] We've got to make haste, you know.
+
+CYNTHIA. Now, I'm ready--
+
+JOHN. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Be sensible. You're breaking off the match--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Excitedly._] What's that to you?
+
+SIR WILFRID. It's boots and saddles!
+
+JOHN. [_Taking his stand between them and the door._] No thoroughfare!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Look here, my boy--!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Catching at the opportunity of putting_ JOHN _in an
+impossible position._] Wait a moment, Sir Wilfrid! Give me the wire!
+[_Facing him._] Thanks! [_Taking the telegraph form from him and
+tearing it up._] There! Too rude to chuck him by wire! But you, Jack,
+you've taken on yourself to look after my interests, so I'll just ask
+you, old man, to run down to the Supreme Court and tell
+Philip--nicely, you know--I'm off with Sir Wilfrid and where! Say I'll
+be back by seven, if I'm not later! And make it clear, Jack, I'll
+marry him by eight-thirty or nine at the latest! And mind _you're_
+there, dear! And now, Sir Wilfrid, we're off.
+
+JOHN. [_Staggered and furious, giving way as they pass him._] I'm not
+the man to--to carry--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Quick and dashing._] Oh, yes, you are.
+
+JOHN. --a message from you.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Triumphant._] Oh, yes, you are; you're just exactly the
+man! [CYNTHIA _and_ SIR WILFRID _whirl out._
+
+JOHN. Great miracles of Moses!
+
+
+            CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+    SCENE. _The same as that of Act I, but the room has been
+    cleared of superfluous furniture, and arranged for a wedding
+    ceremony._ MRS. PHILLIMORE _is reclining on the sofa at the
+    right of the table,_ MISS HENEAGE _at its left._ SUDLEY _is
+    seated at the right of the table._ GRACE _is seated on the
+    sofa. There is a wedding-bell of roses, an arch of orange
+    blossoms, and, girdled by a ribbon of white, an altar of
+    calla lilies. There are cushions of flowers, alcoves of
+    flowers, vases of flowers--in short, flowers everywhere and
+    in profusion and variety. Before the altar are two cushions
+    for the couple to kneel on and, on pedestals, at each side of
+    the arch, are twin candelabra. The hangings are pink and
+    white._
+
+    _The room, first of all, and its emblems, holds the undivided
+    attention; then slowly engaging it, and in contrast to their
+    gay surroundings, the occupants. About each and everyone of
+    them, hangs a deadly atmosphere of suppressed irritation._
+
+
+SUDLEY. [_Impatiently._] All very well, my dear Sarah. But you see the
+hour. Twenty to ten! We have been here since half-past two.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. You had dinner?
+
+SUDLEY. I did not come here at two to have dinner at eight, and be
+kept waiting until ten! And, my dear Sarah, when I ask where the bride
+is--
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_With forced composure._] I have told you all I know.
+Mr. John Karslake came to the house at lunch time, spoke to Philip,
+and they left the house together.
+
+GRACE. Where is Philip?
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Feebly, irritated._] I don't wish to be censorious
+or to express an actual opinion, but I must say it's a bold bride who
+keeps her future mother-in-law waiting for eight hours. However, I
+will not venture to-- [MRS. PHILLIMORE _reclines again and fades away
+into silence._
+
+GRACE. [_Sharply and decisively._] I do! I'm sorry I went to the
+expense of a silver ice-pitcher.
+
+    MRS. PHILLIMORE _sighs._ MISS HENEAGE _keeps her temper with
+    an effort which is obvious._ THOMAS _opens the door._
+
+SUDLEY. [_To_ MRS. PHILLIMORE.] For my part, I don't believe Mrs.
+Karslake means to return here or to marry Philip at all!
+
+THOMAS. [_Coming in, and approaching_ MISS HENEAGE.] Two telegrams for
+you, ma'am! The choir boys have had their supper. [_A slight movement
+ripples the ominous calm of all._ THOMAS _steps back._
+
+SUDLEY. [_Rising._] At last we shall know!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. From the lady! Probably!
+
+    MISS HENEAGE _opens the first telegram and reads it at a
+    glance, laying it on the salver again with a look at_ SUDLEY.
+    THOMAS _passes the salver to_ SUDLEY, _who takes the
+    telegram._
+
+GRACE. There's a toot now.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Feebly, confused._] I don't wish to intrude, but
+really I cannot imagine Philip marrying at midnight. [_As_ SUDLEY
+_reads_, MISS HENEAGE _opens the second telegram, but does not read
+it._
+
+SUDLEY. [_Reading._] "Accident, auto struck"--something!
+"Gasoline"--did something--illegible, ah! [_Reads._] "Home by nine
+forty-five! Hold the church!"
+
+            [_A general movement sets in._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Profoundly shocked._] "Hold the church!" William, she
+still means to marry Philip! and to-night, too!
+
+SUDLEY. It's from Belmont Park.
+
+GRACE. [_Making a great discovery._] She went to the races!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. This is from Philip! [_Reading the second telegram._] "I
+arrive at ten o'clock. Have dinner ready." [MISS HENEAGE _motions to_
+Thomas, _who, obeying, retires. Looking at her watch._] They are both
+due now. [_Movement._] What's to be done? [_She rises and_ SUDLEY
+_shrugs his shoulders._
+
+SUDLEY. [_Rising._] After a young woman has spent her wedding day at
+the races? Why, I consider that she has broken the engagement,--and
+when she comes, tell her so.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. I'll telephone Matthew. The choir boys can go home--her
+maid can pack her belongings--and when the lady arrives--
+
+    _Impudently, the very distant toot of an auto-horn breaks in
+    upon her words, producing, in proportion to its growing
+    nearness, an increasing pitch of excitement and indignation._
+    GRACE _flies to the door and looks out._ MRS. PHILLIMORE,
+    _helpless, does not know what to do or where to go or what to
+    say._ SUDLEY _moves about excitedly._ MISS HENEAGE _stands
+    ready to make herself disagreeable._
+
+GRACE. [_Speaking rapidly and with excitement._] I hear a man's voice.
+Cates-Darby and brother Matthew.
+
+    _A loud and brazenly insistent toot outrages afresh. Laughter
+    and voices outside are heard faintly._ GRACE _looks out of
+    the door, and, as quickly withdraws._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Outrageous!
+
+SUDLEY. Disgraceful!
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. Shocking! [_Partly rising as the voices and horn are
+heard._] I shall not take any part at all, in the--eh--
+
+            [_She fades away._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Interrupting her._] Don't trouble yourself.
+
+    _Through the growing noise of voices and laughter,_ CYNTHIA'S
+    _voice is heard._ SIR WILFRID _is seen in the outer hall. He
+    is burdened with wraps, not to mention a newspaper and
+    parasol, which in no wise check his flow of gay remarks to_
+    CYNTHIA, _who is still outside._ CYNTHIA'S _voice, and now_
+    MATTHEW'S, _reach those inside, and, at last, both join_ SIR
+    WILFRID, _who has turned at the door to wait for them. As she
+    reaches the door_, CYNTHIA _turns and speaks to_ MATTHEW,
+    _who immediately follows her. She is in automobile attire,
+    wearing goggles, a veil, and an exquisite duster of latest
+    Paris style. They come in with a subdued bustle and noise. As
+    their eyes light on_ CYNTHIA, SUDLEY _and_ MISS HENEAGE
+    _exclaim, and there is a general movement._
+
+SUDLEY. 'Pon my word!
+
+GRACE. Hah!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Bristling up to her feet, her sensibilities
+outraged._] Shocking!
+
+    GRACE _remains standing above sofa._ SUDLEY _moves toward
+    her_, MISS HENEAGE _sitting down again._ MRS. PHILLIMORE
+    _reclines on sofa._ CYNTHIA _begins to speak as soon as she
+    appears and speaks fluently to the end._
+
+CYNTHIA. No! I never was so surprised in my life, as when I strolled
+into the paddock and they gave me a rousing reception--old Jimmy
+Withers, Debt Gollup, Jack Deal, Monty Spiffles, the Governor and
+Buckeye. All of my old admirers! They simply fell on my neck, and,
+dear Matthew, what do you think I did? I turned on the water main!
+[_There are movements and murmurs of disapprobation from the family._
+MATTHEW _indicates a desire to go._] Oh, but you can't go!
+
+MATTHEW. I'll return in no time!
+
+CYNTHIA. I'm all ready to be married. Are they ready? [MATTHEW _waves
+a pious, polite gesture of recognition to the family._] I beg
+everybody's pardon! [_Taking off her wrap and putting it on the back
+of a chair._] My goggles are so dusty, I can't see who's who! [_To_
+SIR WILFRID.] Thanks! You _have_ carried it well! [_She takes the
+parasol from_ SIR WILFRID.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Aside to_ CYNTHIA.] When may I--?
+
+CYNTHIA. See you next Goodwood!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Imperturbably._] Oh, I'm coming back!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Advancing a bit toward the family._] Not a bit of use in
+coming back! I shall be married before you get here! Ta! Ta! Goodwood!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Not in the least affected._] I'm coming back. [_He goes
+out quickly. There are more murmurs of disapprobation from the family.
+There is a slight pause._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Beginning to take off her goggles, and moving nearer "the
+family."_] I do awfully apologize for being so late!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Importantly._] Mrs. Karslake--
+
+SUDLEY. [_Importantly._] Ahem! [CYNTHIA _lays down goggles, and sees
+their severity._
+
+CYNTHIA. Dear me! [_Surveying the flowers and for a moment
+speechless._] Oh, good heavens! Why, it looks like a smart funeral!
+
+    MISS HENEAGE _moves; then speaks in a perfectly ordinary
+    natural tone, but her expression is severe._ CYNTHIA
+    _immediately realizes the state of affairs in its fullness._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] After what has occurred, Mrs. Karslake--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Glances quietly toward the table, and then sits down at it,
+composed and good-tempered._] I see you got my wire--so you know where
+I have been.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. To the race-course!
+
+SUDLEY. With a rowdy Englishman. [CYNTHIA _glances at_ SUDLEY,
+_uncertain whether he means to be disagreeable, or whether he is only
+naturally so._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. We concluded you desired to break the engagement!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Indifferently._] No! No! Oh! No!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Do you intend, despite of our opinion of you--
+
+CYNTHIA. The only opinion that would have any weight with me would be
+Mrs. Phillimore's.
+
+            [_She turns expectantly to_ MRS. PHILLIMORE.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. I am generally asleep at this hour, and, accordingly,
+I will not venture to express any--eh--any--actual opinion. [_She
+fades away._ CYNTHIA _smiles._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Coldly._] You smile. We simply inform you that as
+regards _us_, the alliance is not grateful.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Affecting gaiety and unconcern._] And all this because the
+gasoline gave out.
+
+SUDLEY. My patience has given out!
+
+GRACE. So has mine. I'm going.
+
+            [_She makes good her word._
+
+SUDLEY. [_Vexed beyond civility. To_ CYNTHIA.] My dear young lady: You
+come here, to this sacred--eh--eh--spot--altar!-- [_Gesture._]
+odoriferous of the paddock!--speaking of Spiffles and Buckeye,--having
+practically eloped!--having created a scandal, and disgraced our
+family!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Affecting surprise at this attitude._] How does it disgrace
+you? Because I like to see a high-bred, clean, nervy, sweet little
+four-legged gee play the antelope over a hurdle!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Sister, it is high time that you--
+
+            [_She turns to_ CYNTHIA _with a gesture._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With quiet irony._] Mrs. Phillimore is generally asleep at
+this hour, and accordingly she will not venture to express--
+
+SUDLEY. [_Spluttering with irritation._] Enough, madam--I _venture_
+to--to--to--to say, you are leading a fast life.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With powerful intention._] Not in this house! For six heavy
+weeks have I been laid away in the grave, and I've found it very slow
+indeed trying to keep pace with the dead!
+
+SUDLEY. [_Despairingly._] This comes of horses!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Indignant._] Of what?
+
+SUDLEY. C-c-caring for horses!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_With sublime morality._] What Mrs. Karslake cares for
+is--men.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Angry and gay._] What would you have me care for? The
+Ornithorhyncus Paradoxus? or Pithacanthropus Erectus? Oh, I refuse to
+take you seriously. [SUDLEY _begins to prepare to leave; he buttons
+himself into respectability and his coat._
+
+SUDLEY. My dear madam, I take myself seriously--and madam, I--I
+retract what I have brought with me [_Feeling in his waistcoat
+pocket._] as a graceful gift,--an Egyptian scarab--a--a--sacred
+beetle, which once ornamented the person of a--eh--mummy.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Scoring in return._] It should never be absent from your
+pocket, Mr. Sudley! [SUDLEY _walks away in a rage._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Rising, to_ SUDLEY.] I've a vast mind to withdraw my--
+[CYNTHIA _moves._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Interrupts; maliciously._] Your wedding present? The little
+bronze cat!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Moves, angrily._] Oh! [_Even_ MRS. PHILLIMORE _comes
+momentarily to life, and expresses silent indignation._
+
+SUDLEY. [_Loftily._] Sarah, I'm going.
+
+    GRACE, _who has met_ PHILIP, _takes occasion to accompany him
+    into the room._ PHILIP _looks dusty and grim. As they come
+    in_, GRACE _speaks to him, and_ PHILIP _shakes his head. They
+    pause near the door._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Emotionally._] I shall go to my room! However, all I ask is
+that you repeat to Philip-- [_As she moves toward the door, she comes
+suddenly upon_ PHILIP, _and speaks to him in a low voice._
+
+SUDLEY. [_To_ MISS HENEAGE, _determined to win._] As I go out, I shall
+do myself the pleasure of calling a hansom for Mrs. Karslake-- [PHILIP
+_moves slightly from the door._
+
+PHILIP. As you go out, Sudley, have a hansom called, and when it
+comes, get into it.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Furious._] Eh,--eh,--my dear sir, I leave you to your fate.
+[PHILIP _angrily points him the door and_ SUDLEY _leaves in great
+haste._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_With weight._] Philip, you've not heard--
+
+PHILIP. [_Interrupting._] Everything--from Grace! My sister has
+repeated your words to me--and her own! I've told her what I think of
+_her_. [PHILIP _looks witheringly at_ GRACE.
+
+GRACE. I shan't wait to hear any more.
+
+            [_She flounces out of the room._
+
+PHILIP. Don't make it necessary for me to tell you what I think of
+you. [PHILIP _moves to the right, toward his mother, to whom he gives
+his arm._ MISS HENEAGE _immediately seeks the opposite side._] Mother,
+with your permission, I desire to be alone. I expect both you and
+Grace, Sarah, to be dressed and ready for the ceremony a half hour
+from now. [_As_ PHILIP _and_ MRS. PHILLIMORE _are about to go out_,
+MISS HENEAGE _speaks._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. I shall come or not as I see fit. And let me add, my
+dear brother, that a fool at forty is a fool indeed. [MISS HENEAGE,
+_high and mighty, goes out, much pleased with her quotation._
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Stupid and weary as usual, to_ PHILIP, _as he leads
+her to the door._] My dear son--I won't venture to express-- [CYNTHIA,
+_in irritation, moves to the table._
+
+PHILIP. [_Soothing a silly mother._] No, mother, don't! But I shall
+expect you, of course, at the ceremony. [MRS. PHILLIMORE _languidly
+retires._ PHILIP _strides to the centre of the room, taking the tone,
+and assuming the attitude of, the injured husband._] It is proper for
+me to tell you that I followed you to Belmont. I am aware--I know with
+whom--in fact, _I know all_! [_He punctuates his words with pauses,
+and indicates the whole censorious universe._] And now let me assure
+you--I am the last man in the world to be jilted on the very eve
+of--of--everything with you. I won't be jilted. [CYNTHIA _is silent._]
+You understand? I propose to marry you. I won't be made ridiculous.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Glancing at_ PHILIP.] Philip, I didn't mean to make you--
+
+PHILIP. Why, then, did you run off to Belmont Park with that fellow?
+
+CYNTHIA. Philip, I--eh--
+
+PHILIP. [_Sitting down at the table._] What motive? What reason? On
+our wedding day? Why did you do it?
+
+CYNTHIA. I'll tell you the truth. I was bored.
+
+PHILIP. [_Staggered._] Bored? In my company?
+
+CYNTHIA. I was bored, and then--and besides, Sir Wilfrid asked me to
+go.
+
+PHILIP. Exactly, and that was why you went. Cynthia, when you promised
+to marry me, you told me you had forever done with love. You agreed
+that marriage was the rational coming together of two people.
+
+CYNTHIA. I know, I know!
+
+PHILIP. Do you believe that now?
+
+CYNTHIA. I don't know what I believe. My brain is in a whirl! But,
+Philip, I am beginning to be--I'm afraid--yes, I am afraid that one
+can't just select a great and good man [_Indicating him._] and say: I
+will be happy with him.
+
+PHILIP. [_With complacent dignity._] I don't see why not. You must
+assuredly do one or the other: You must either let your heart choose
+or your head select.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Gravely._] No, there's a third scheme: Sir Wilfrid
+explained the theory to me. A woman should marry whenever she has a
+whim for the man, and then leave the rest to the man. Do you see?
+
+PHILIP. [_Furious._] Do I see? Have I ever seen any thing else? Marry
+for whim! That's the New York idea of marriage.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Observing cynically._] New York ought to know.
+
+PHILIP. Marry for whim and leave the rest to the divorce court! Marry
+for whim and leave the rest to the man. That was the former Mrs.
+Phillimore's idea. Only she spelled "whim" differently; she omitted
+the "w." [_He rises in his anger._] And now you--_you_ take up with
+this preposterous-- [CYNTHIA _moves uneasily._] But, nonsense! It's
+impossible! A woman of your mental calibre--No. Some obscure,
+primitive, female _feeling_ is at work corrupting your better
+judgment! What is it you _feel_?
+
+CYNTHIA. Philip, you never felt like a fool, did you?
+
+PHILIP. No, never.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Politely._] I thought not.
+
+PHILIP. No, but whatever your feelings, I conclude you are ready to
+marry me.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Uneasy._] Of course, I came back. I am here, am I not?
+
+PHILIP. You are ready to marry me?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Twisting in the coils._] But you haven't had your dinner.
+
+PHILIP. Do I understand you refuse?
+
+CYNTHIA. Couldn't we defer--?
+
+PHILIP. You refuse?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Desperately thinking of an escape from her promise, and
+finding none._] No, I said I'd marry you. I'm a woman of my word. I
+will.
+
+PHILIP. [_Triumphant._] Ah! Very good, then. Run to your room.
+[CYNTHIA _turns to_ PHILIP.] Throw something over you. In a half hour
+I'll expect you here! And Cynthia, my dear, remember! I cannot
+cuculate like a wood-pigeon, but--I esteem you!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Hopelessly._] I think I'll go, Philip.
+
+PHILIP. I may not be fitted to play the love-bird, but--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Spiritlessly._] I think I'll go, Philip.
+
+PHILIP. I'll expect you,--in half an hour.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With leaden despair._] Yes.
+
+PHILIP. And, Cynthia, don't think any more about that fellow,
+Cates-Darby.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Amazed and disgusted by his misapprehension._] No. [_As_
+CYNTHIA _leaves_, THOMAS _comes in from the opposite door._
+
+PHILIP. [_Not seeing_ THOMAS, _and clumsily defiant._] And if I had
+that fellow, Cates-Darby, in the dock--!
+
+THOMAS. Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby.
+
+PHILIP. Sir what--what--wh-who? [SIR WILFRID _enters in evening
+dress._ PHILIP _looks_ SIR WILFRID _in the face and speaks to_
+THOMAS.] Tell Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby I am not at home to him. [THOMAS
+_is embarrassed._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Undaunted._] My dear Lord Eldon--
+
+PHILIP. [_Again addressing_ THOMAS.] Show the gentleman the door.
+[_There is a pause._ SIR WILFRID, _with a significant gesture, glances
+at the door._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Moving to the door, he examines it and returns to_
+PHILIP.] Eh,--I admire the door, my boy! Fine, old carved mahogany
+panel; but don't ask me to leave by it, for Mrs. Karslake made me
+promise I'd come, and that's why I'm here.
+
+            [THOMAS _does not wait for further orders._
+
+PHILIP. Sir, you are--impudent--!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Interrupting._] Ah, you put it all in a nutshell, don't
+you?
+
+PHILIP. To show your face here, after practically eloping with my
+wife!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Affecting ignorance._] When were you married?
+
+PHILIP. We are as good as married.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, pooh, pooh! You can't tell me that grace before soup
+is as good as a dinner! [_He takes out his cigar-case and, in the
+absence of a match, enjoys a smokeless smoke._
+
+PHILIP. Sir--I--demand--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Calmly carrying the situation._] Mrs. Karslake is _not_
+married. _That's_ why I'm here. I am here for the same purpose _you_
+are; to ask Mrs. Karslake to be my wife.
+
+PHILIP. Are you in your senses?
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Pricking his American cousin's pet vanity._] Come,
+come, Judge--you Americans have no sense of humour. [_Taking a small
+jewel-case from his pocket._] There's my regards for the lady--and
+[_Reasonably._], if I must go, I will. Of course, I would like to see
+her, but--if it isn't your American custom--
+
+THOMAS. [_Opens the door and announces._] Mr. Karslake.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, well, I say; if he can come, I can!
+
+    JOHN KARSLAKE, _in evening dress, comes in quickly, carrying
+    a large and very smart bride's bouquet, which he hands to_
+    PHILIP, _who stands transfixed. Because it never occurs to
+    him to refuse it or chuck it away_, PHILIP _accepts the
+    bouquet gingerly, but frees himself of it at the first
+    available moment._ JOHN _walks to the centre of the room.
+    Deep down he is feeling wounded and unhappy. But, as he knows
+    his coming to the ceremony on whatever pretext is a social
+    outrage, he carries it off by assuming an air of its being
+    the most natural thing in the world. He controls the
+    expression of his deeper emotion, but the pressure of this
+    keeps his face grave, and he speaks with effort._
+
+JOHN. My compliments to the bride, Judge.
+
+PHILIP. [_Angry._] And you, too, have the effrontery?
+
+SIR WILFRID. There you are!
+
+JOHN. [_Pretending ease._] Oh, call it friendship--
+
+            [THOMAS _leaves._
+
+PHILIP. [_Puts bouquet on table. Ironically._] I suppose Mrs.
+Karslake--
+
+JOHN. She wagered me I wouldn't give her away, and of course--
+
+    _Throughout his stay_ JOHN _hides the emotions he will not
+    show behind a daring irony. Under its effects_, PHILIP, _on
+    his right, walks about in a fury._ SIR WILFRID, _sitting down
+    on the edge of the table, is gay and undisturbed._
+
+PHILIP. [_Taking a step toward_ JOHN.] You will oblige me--both of
+you--by immediately leaving--
+
+JOHN. [_Smiling and going to_ PHILIP.] Oh, come, come, Judge--suppose
+I _am_ here? Who has a better right to attend his wife's obsequies!
+Certainly, I come as a mourner--for _you_!
+
+SIR WILFRID. I say, is it the custom?
+
+JOHN. No, no--of course it's not the custom, no. But we'll make it the
+custom. After all,--what's a divorced wife among friends?
+
+PHILIP. Sir, your humour is strained!
+
+JOHN. Humour,--Judge?
+
+PHILIP. It is, sir, and I'll not be bantered! Your both being here
+is--it is--gentlemen, there is a decorum which the stars in their
+courses do not violate.
+
+JOHN. Now, Judge, never you mind what the stars do in their divorces!
+Get down to earth of the present day. Rufus Choate and Daniel Webster
+are dead. You must be modern. You must let peroration and poetry
+alone! Come along now. Why shouldn't I give the lady away?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Hear! Hear! Oh, I beg your pardon!
+
+JOHN. And why shouldn't we both be here? American marriage is a new
+thing. We've got to strike the pace, and the only trouble is, Judge,
+that the judiciary have so messed the thing up that a man can't be
+sure he _is_ married until he's divorced. It's a sort of
+marry-go-round, to be sure! But let it go at that! Here we all are,
+and we're ready to marry my wife to you, and start her on her way to
+him!
+
+PHILIP. [_Brought to a standstill._] Good Lord! Sir, you cannot trifle
+with monogamy!
+
+JOHN. Now, now, Judge, monogamy is just as extinct as knee-breeches.
+The new woman has a new idea, and the new idea is--well, it's just the
+opposite of the old Mormon one. Their idea is one man, ten wives and a
+hundred children. Our idea is one woman, a hundred husbands and one
+child.
+
+PHILIP. Sir, this is polyandry.
+
+JOHN. Polyandry? A hundred to one it's polyandry; and that's it,
+Judge! Uncle Sam has established consecutive polyandry,--but there's
+got to be an interval between husbands! The fact is, Judge, the modern
+American marriage is like a wire fence. The woman's the wire--the
+posts are the husbands. [_He indicates himself, and then_ SIR WILFRID
+_and_ PHILIP.] One--two--three! And if you cast your eye over the
+future you can count them, post after post, up hill, down dale, all
+the way to Dakota!
+
+PHILIP. All very amusing, sir, but the fact remains--
+
+JOHN. [_Going to_ PHILIP _who at once moves away._] Now, now, Judge, I
+like you. But you're asleep; you're living in the dark ages. You want
+to call up Central. "Hello, Central! Give me the present time, 1906,
+New York!"
+
+SIR WILFRID. Of course you do, and--there you are!
+
+PHILIP. [_Heavily._] There I am not, sir! And-- [_To_ JOHN.] as for Mr.
+Karslake's ill-timed jocosity,--sir, in the future--
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, hang the future!
+
+PHILIP. I begin to hope, Sir Wilfrid, that in the future I shall have
+the pleasure of hanging you! [_To_ JOHN.] And as to you, sir, your
+insensate idea of giving away your own--your former--my--your--oh!
+Good Lord! This is a nightmare! [_He turns to go in despair._ MATTHEW,
+_coming in, meets him, and stops him at the door._
+
+MATTHEW. [_To_ PHILIP.] My dear brother, Aunt Sarah Heneage refuses to
+give Mrs. Karslake away, unless you yourself,--eh--
+
+PHILIP. [_As he goes out._] No more! I'll attend to the matter! [_The_
+CHOIR BOYS _are heard practising in the next room._
+
+MATTHEW. [_Mopping his brow._] How do you both do? My aunt has made me
+very warm. [_Ringing the bell._] You hear our choir practising--sweet
+angel boys! H'm! H'm! Some of the family will not be present. I am
+very fond of you, Mr. Karslake, and I think it admirably Christian of
+you to have waived your--eh--your--eh--that is, now that I look at it
+more narrowly, let me say, that in the excitement of pleasurable
+anticipation, I forgot, Karslake, that your presence might occasion
+remark-- [THOMAS _responds to his ring._] Thomas! I left, in the hall,
+a small hand-bag or satchel containing my surplice.
+
+THOMAS. Yes, sir. Ahem!
+
+MATTHEW. You must really find the hand-bag at once.
+
+            [THOMAS _turns to go, when he stops startled._
+
+THOMAS. Yes, sir. [_Announcing in consternation._] Mrs. Vida
+Phillimore. [VIDA PHILLIMORE, _in full evening dress, steps gently up
+to_ MATTHEW.
+
+MATTHEW. [_Always piously serene._] Ah, my dear child! Now this is
+just as it should be! That is, eh-- [_He walks to the centre of the
+room with her_, VIDA, _the while, pointedly disregarding_ SIR
+WILFRID.] That is, when I come to think of it--your presence might be
+deemed inauspicious.
+
+VIDA. But, my dear Matthew,--I had to come. [_Aside to him._] I have a
+reason for being here.
+
+            [THOMAS, _who has left the room, again appears._
+
+MATTHEW. [_With a helpless gesture._] But, my dear child--
+
+THOMAS. [_With sympathetic intention._] Sir, Mr. Phillimore wishes to
+have your assistance, sir--with Miss Heneage _immediately_!
+
+MATTHEW. Ah! [_To_ VIDA.] One moment! I'll return. [_To_ THOMAS.] Have
+you found the bag with my surplice?
+
+    _He goes out with_ THOMAS, _speaking._ SIR WILFRID _moves at
+    once to_ VIDA. JOHN, _moving to a better position, watches
+    the door._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_To_ VIDA.] You're just the person I most want to see!
+
+VIDA. [_With affected iciness._] Oh, no, Sir Wilfrid, Cynthia isn't
+here yet! [_She moves to the table, and_ JOHN, _his eyes on the door,
+coming toward her, she speaks to him with obvious sweetness._] Jack,
+dear, I never was so ravished to see any one.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Taken aback._] By Jove!
+
+VIDA. [_Very sweet._] I knew I should find you here!
+
+JOHN. [_Annoyed but civil._] Now don't do that!
+
+VIDA. [_Sweeter than ever._] Jack! [_They sit down._
+
+JOHN. [_Civil but plain spoken._] Don't do it!
+
+VIDA. [_In a voice dripping with honey._] Do what, Jack?
+
+JOHN. Touch me with your voice! I have troubles enough of my own. [_He
+sits not far from her; the table between them._
+
+VIDA. And I know who your troubles are! Cynthia!
+
+    [_From this moment_ VIDA _abandons_ JOHN _as an object of the
+    chase and works him into her other game._
+
+JOHN. I hate her. I don't know why I came.
+
+VIDA. You came, dear, because you couldn't stay away--you're in love
+with her.
+
+JOHN. All right, Vida, what I feel may be _love_--but all I can say
+is, if I could get even with Cynthia Karslake--
+
+VIDA. You can, dear--it's as easy as powdering one's face; all you
+have to do is to be too nice to me!
+
+JOHN. [_Looking at her inquiringly._] Eh!
+
+VIDA. Don't you realize she's jealous of you? Why did she come to my
+house this morning? She's jealous--and all you have to do--
+
+JOHN. If I can make her wince, I'll make love to you till the Heavenly
+cows come home!
+
+VIDA. Well, you see, my dear, if you make love to me it will
+[_Delicately indicating_ SIR WILFRID.] cut both ways at once!
+
+JOHN. Eh,--what! Not Cates-Darby? [_Starting._] Is that Cynthia?
+
+VIDA. Now don't get rattled and forget to make love to me.
+
+JOHN. I've got the jumps. [_Trying to follow her instructions._] Vida,
+I adore you.
+
+VIDA. Oh, you must be more convincing; that won't do at all.
+
+JOHN. [_Listening._] Is that she now?
+
+            [MATTHEW _comes in and passes to the inner room._
+
+VIDA. It's Matthew. And, Jack, dear, you'd best get the hang of it
+before Cynthia comes. You might tell me all about your divorce. That's
+a sympathetic subject. Were you able to undermine it?
+
+JOHN. No. I've got a wire from my lawyer this morning. The divorce
+holds. She's a free woman. She can marry whom she likes. [_The organ
+is heard, very softly played._] Is that Cynthia? [_He rises quickly._
+
+VIDA. It's the organ!
+
+JOHN. [_Overwhelmingly excited._] By George! I should never have come!
+I think I'll go.
+
+            [_He makes a movement toward the door._
+
+VIDA. [_Rises and follows him remonstratingly._] When I need you?
+
+JOHN. I can't stand it.
+
+VIDA. Oh, but, Jack--
+
+JOHN. Good-night!
+
+VIDA. I feel quite ill. [_Seeing that she must play her last card to
+keep him, pretends to faintness; sways and falls into his arms._] Oh!
+
+JOHN. [_In a rage, but beaten._] I believe you're putting up a fake.
+
+    _The organ swells as_ CYNTHIA _enters sweepingly, dressed in
+    full evening dress for the wedding ceremony._ JOHN, _not
+    knowing what to do, keeps his arms about_ VIDA _as a horrid
+    necessity._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Speaking as she comes in, to_ MATTHEW.] Here I am.
+Ridiculous to make it a conventional thing, you know. Come in on the
+swell of the music, and all that, just as if I'd never been married
+before. Where's Philip? [_She looks for_ PHILIP _and sees_ JOHN _with_
+VIDA _in his arms. She stops short._
+
+JOHN. [_Uneasy and embarrassed._] A glass of water! I beg your pardon,
+Mrs. Karslake-- [_The organ plays on._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Ironical and calm._] Vida!
+
+JOHN. She has fainted.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Cynically._] Fainted? [_Without pausing._] Dear, dear,
+dear, terrible! So she has. [SIR WILFRID _takes the flowers from a
+vase and prepares to sprinkle_ VIDA'S _forehead with the water it
+contains._] No, no, not her forehead, Sir Wilfrid, her frock! Sprinkle
+her best Paquin! If it's a real faint, she will not come to!
+
+VIDA. [_Coming quickly to her senses as her Paris importation is about
+to suffer._] I almost fainted.
+
+CYNTHIA. Almost!
+
+VIDA. [_Using the stock phrase as a matter of course, and reviving
+rapidly._] Where am I? [JOHN _glances at_ CYNTHIA _sharply._] Oh, the
+bride! I beg every one's pardon. Cynthia, at a crisis like this, I
+simply couldn't stay away from Philip!
+
+CYNTHIA. Stay away from Philip? [JOHN _and_ CYNTHIA _exchange
+glances._
+
+VIDA. Your arm, Jack; and lead me where there is air.
+
+    JOHN _and_ VIDA _go into the further room. The organ stops._
+    SIR WILFRID _and_ CYNTHIA _are practically alone in the
+    room._ JOHN _and_ VIDA _are barely within sight. He is first
+    seen to take her fan and give her air; then to pick up a book
+    and read to her._
+
+SIR WILFRID. I've come back.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_To_ SIR WILFRID.] Asks for air and goes to the greenhouse.
+[CYNTHIA _crosses the room and_ SIR WILFRID _offers her a seat._] I
+know why you are here. It's that intoxicating little whim you suppose
+me to have for you. My regrets! But the whim's gone flat! Yes, yes, my
+gasoline days are over. I'm going to be garaged for good. However, I'm
+glad you're here; you take the edge off--
+
+SIR WILFRID. Mr. Phillimore?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Sharply._] No, Karslake. I'm just waiting to say the words
+[THOMAS _comes in unnoticed._] "love, honour and obey" to
+Phillimore-- [_Looking back._] and _at_ Karslake! [_Seeing_ THOMAS.]
+What is it? Mr. Phillimore?
+
+THOMAS. Mr. Phillimore will be down in a few minutes, ma'am. He's very
+sorry, ma'am [_Lowering his voice and coming nearer to_ CYNTHIA,
+_mindful of the respectabilities_], but there's a button off his
+waistcoat.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Rising. With irony._] Button off his waistcoat!
+
+            [THOMAS _goes out._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Delightedly._] Ah! So much the better for me. [CYNTHIA
+_looks into the other room._] Now, then, never mind those two!
+[CYNTHIA _moves restlessly._] Sit down.
+
+CYNTHIA. I can't.
+
+SIR WILFRID. You're as nervous as--
+
+CYNTHIA. Nervous! Of course I'm nervous! So would you be nervous if
+you'd had a runaway and smash up, and you were going to try it again.
+[_She is unable to take her eyes from_ VIDA _and_ JOHN, _and_ SIR
+WILFRID, _noting this, grows uneasy._] And if some one doesn't do away
+with those calla lilies--the odor makes me faint! [SIR WILFRID
+_moves._] No, it's not the lilies! It's the orange blossoms!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Orange blossoms.
+
+CYNTHIA. The flowers that grow on the tree that hangs over the abyss!
+[SIR WILFRID _promptly confiscates the vase of orange blossoms._] They
+smell of six o'clock in the evening. When Philip's fallen asleep, and
+little boys are crying the winners outside, and I'm crying inside, and
+dying inside and outside and everywhere.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Returning to her side._] Sorry to disappoint you.
+They're artificial. [CYNTHIA _shrugs her shoulders._] That's it!
+They're emblematic of artificial domesticity! And I'm here to help you
+balk it. [_He sits down and_ CYNTHIA _half rises and looks toward_
+JOHN _and_ VIDA.] Keep still now, I've a lot to say to you. Stop
+looking--
+
+CYNTHIA. Do you think I can listen to you make love to me when the man
+who--who--whom I most despise in all the world, is reading poetry to
+the woman who--who got me into the fix I'm in!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Leaning over her chair._] What do you want to look at
+'em for? [CYNTHIA _moves._] Let 'em be and listen to me! Sit down; for
+damme, I'm determined.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Now at the table and half to herself._] I won't look at
+them! I won't think of them. Beasts! [SIR WILFRID _interposes between
+her and her view of_ JOHN. THOMAS _opens the door and walks in._
+
+SIR WILFRID. Now, then-- [_He sits down._
+
+CYNTHIA. Those two _here_! It's just as if Adam and Eve should invite
+the snake to their golden wedding. [_Seeing_ THOMAS.] What is it,
+what's the matter?
+
+THOMAS. Mr. Phillimore's excuses, ma'am. In a very short time--
+[THOMAS _goes out._
+
+SIR WILFRID. I'm on to you! You hoped for more buttons!
+
+CYNTHIA. I'm dying of the heat; fan me.
+
+            [SIR WILFRID _fans_ CYNTHIA.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Heat! No! You're dying because you're ignorin' nature.
+Certainly you are! You're marryin' Phillimore! [CYNTHIA _appears
+faint._] Can't ignore nature, Mrs. Karslake. Yes, you are; you're
+forcin' your feelin's. [CYNTHIA _glances at him._] And what you want
+to do is to let yourself go a bit--up anchor and sit tight! I'm no
+seaman, but that's the idea! [CYNTHIA _moves and shakes her head._] So
+just throw the reins on nature's neck, jump this fellow Phillimore and
+marry me!
+
+            [_He leans toward_ CYNTHIA.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Naturally, but with irritation._] You propose to me here,
+at a moment like this? When I'm on the last lap--just in sight of the
+goal--the gallows--the halter--the altar, I don't know what its name
+is! No, I won't have you! [_Looking toward_ KARSLAKE _and_ VIDA.] And
+I won't have you stand near me! I won't have you talking to me in a
+low tone! [_Her eyes glued on_ JOHN _and_ VIDA.] Stand over
+there--stand where you are.
+
+SIR WILFRID. I say--
+
+CYNTHIA. I can hear you--I'm listening!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Well, don't look so hurried and worried. You've got
+buttons and buttons of time. And now my offer. You haven't yet said
+you would--
+
+CYNTHIA. Marry you? I don't even know you!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Feeling sure of being accepted._] Oh,--tell you all
+about myself. I'm no duke in a pickle o' debts, d'ye see? I can marry
+where I like. Some o' my countrymen are rotters, ye know. They'd marry
+a monkey, if poppa-up-the-tree had a corner in cocoanuts! And they do
+marry some queer ones, y' know. [CYNTHIA _looks beyond him, exclaims
+and turns._ SIR WILFRID _turns._
+
+CYNTHIA. Do they?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, rather. That's what's giving your heiresses such a
+bad name lately. If a fellah's in debt he can't pick and choose, and
+then he swears that American gals are awfully fine lookers, but
+they're no good when it comes to continuin' the race! Fair dolls in
+the drawin'-room, but no good in the nursery.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Thinking of_ JOHN _and_ VIDA _and nothing else._] I can see
+Vida in the nursery.
+
+SIR WILFRID. You understand when you want a brood mare, you don't
+choose a Kentucky mule.
+
+CYNTHIA. I think I see one.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Well, that's what they're saying over there. They say
+your gals run to talk [_He plainly remembers_ VIDA'S _volubility._]
+and I have seen gals here that would chat life into a wooden Indian!
+That's what you Americans call being clever.--All brains and no
+stuffin'! In fact, some of your American gals are the nicest boys I
+ever met.
+
+CYNTHIA. So that's what you think?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Not a bit what _I_ think--what my countrymen think!
+
+CYNTHIA. Why are you telling me?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, just explaining my character. I'm the sort that can
+pick and choose--and what I want is heart.
+
+CYNTHIA. [VIDA _and_ JOHN _ever in mind._] No more heart than a
+dragon-fly! [_The organ begins to play softly._
+
+SIR WILFRID. That's it, dragon-fly. Cold as stone and never stops
+buzzing about and showin' off her colours. It's that American
+dragon-fly girl that I'm afraid of, because, d'ye see, I don't know
+what an American expects when he marries; yes, but you're not
+listening!
+
+CYNTHIA. I am listening. I am!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Speaking directly to her._] An Englishman, ye see, when
+he marries expects three things: love, obedience, and five children.
+
+CYNTHIA. Three things! I make it seven!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Yes, my dear, but the point is, will you be mistress of
+Traynham?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Who has only half listened to him._] No, Sir Wilfrid, thank
+you, I won't. [_She turns to see_ JOHN _walk across the drawing-room
+with_ VIDA, _and apparently absorbed in what she is saying._] It's
+outrageous!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Eh? Why you're cryin'?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Almost sobbing._] I am not.
+
+SIR WILFRID. You're not crying because you're in love with me?
+
+CYNTHIA. I'm not crying--or if I am, I'm crying because I love my
+country. It's a disgrace to America--cast-off husbands and wives
+getting together in a parlour and playing tag under a palm-tree.
+[JOHN, _with intention and determined to stab_ CYNTHIA, _kisses_
+VIDA'S _hand._
+
+SIR WILFRID. Eh! Oh! I'm damned! [_To_ CYNTHIA.] What do you think
+that means?
+
+CYNTHIA. I don't doubt it means a wedding here, at once--after mine!
+[VIDA _and_ JOHN _leave the drawing-room and walk slowly toward
+them._
+
+VIDA. [_Affecting an impossible intimacy to wound_ CYNTHIA _and
+tantalize_ SIR WILFRID.] Hush, Jack--I'd much rather no one should
+know anything about it until it's all over!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Starting and looking at_ SIR WILFRID.] What did I tell you?
+
+VIDA. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Oh, my dear, he's asked me to champagne and
+lobster at _your_ house--his house! Matthew is coming! [CYNTHIA
+_starts, but controls herself._] And you're to come, Sir Wilfrid.
+[_Intending to convey the idea of a sudden marriage ceremony._] Of
+course, my dear, I would like to wait for your wedding, but something
+rather--rather important to me is to take place, and I know you'll
+excuse me. [_The organ stops._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Piqued at being forgotten._] All very neat, but you
+haven't given me a chance, even.
+
+VIDA. Chance? You're not serious?
+
+SIR WILFRID. I am!
+
+VIDA. [_Striking while the iron is hot._] I'll give you a minute to
+offer yourself.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Eh?
+
+VIDA. Sixty seconds from now.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Uncertain._] There's such a thing as bein' silly.
+
+VIDA. [_Calm and determined._] Fifty seconds left.
+
+SIR WILFRID. I take you--count fair. [_He hands her his watch and goes
+to where_ CYNTHIA _stands._] I say, Mrs. Karslake--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Overwhelmed with grief and emotion._] They're engaged;
+they're going to be married to-night, over champagne and lobster at my
+house!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Will you consider your--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Hastily, to get rid of him._] No, no, no, no! Thank you,
+Sir Wilfrid, I will not.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Calm, and not to be laid low._] Thanks awfully.
+[CYNTHIA _walks away. Returning to_ VIDA.] Mrs. Phillimore--
+
+VIDA. [_Returning his watch._] Too late! [_To_ KARSLAKE.] Jack, dear,
+we must be off.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Standing and making a general appeal for information._]
+I say, is it the custom for American girls--that sixty seconds or too
+late? Look here! Not a bit too late. I'll take you around to Jack
+Karslake's, and I'm going to ask you the same old question again, you
+know. [_To_ VIDA.] By Jove, you know in your country it's the pace
+that kills.
+
+            [SIR WILFRID _follows_ VIDA _out the door._
+
+JOHN. [_Gravely to_ CYNTHIA, _who has walked away._] Good-night, Mrs.
+Karslake, I'm going; I'm sorry I came.
+
+CYNTHIA. Sorry? Why are you sorry? [JOHN _looks at her; she winces a
+little._] You've got what you wanted. [_After a pause._] I wouldn't
+mind your marrying Vida--
+
+JOHN. [_Gravely._] Oh, wouldn't you?
+
+CYNTHIA. But I don't think you showed good taste in engaging
+yourselves _here_.
+
+JOHN. Of course, I should have preferred a garden of roses and plenty
+of twilight.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Rushing into speech._] I'll tell you what you _have_
+done--you've thrown yourself away! A woman like that! No head, no
+heart! All languor and loose--loose frocks--she's the typical, worst
+thing America can do! She's the regular American marriage worm!
+
+JOHN. I have known others--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Quickly._] Not me. I'm not a patch on that woman. Do you
+know anything about her life? Do you know the things she did to
+Philip? Kept him up every night of his life--forty days out of every
+thirty--and then, without his knowing it, put brandy in his coffee to
+make him lively at breakfast.
+
+JOHN. [_Banteringly._] I begin to think she is just the woman--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Unable to quiet her jealousy._] She is _not_ the woman for
+_you_! A man with your bad temper--your airs of authority--your
+assumption of--of--everything. What you need is a good, old-fashioned,
+bread-poultice woman!
+
+            [CYNTHIA _comes to a full stop and faces him._
+
+JOHN. [_Sharply._] Can't say I've had any experience of the good
+old-fashioned bread-poultice.
+
+CYNTHIA. I don't care what you say! If you marry Vida Phillimore--you
+sha'n't do it. [_Tears of rage choking her._] No, I liked your father
+and, for _his_ sake, I'll see that his son doesn't make a donkey of
+himself a second time.
+
+JOHN. [_Too angry to be amused._] Oh, I thought I was divorced. I
+begin to feel as if I had you on my hands still.
+
+CYNTHIA. You have! You shall have! If you attempt to marry her, I'll
+follow you--and I'll find her--I'll tell Vida-- [_He turns to her._] I
+will. I'll tell Vida just what sort of a dance you led me.
+
+JOHN. [_Quickly on her last word but speaking gravely._] Indeed! Will
+you? And why do you care what happens to me?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Startled by his tone._] I--I--ah--
+
+JOHN. [_Insistently and with a faint hope._] _Why_ do you _care_?
+
+CYNTHIA. I don't. Not in your sense--
+
+JOHN. How dare you then pretend--
+
+CYNTHIA. I don't pretend.
+
+JOHN. [_Interrupting her; proud, serious and strong._] How dare you
+look me in the face with the eyes that I once kissed, and pretend the
+least regard for me? [CYNTHIA _recoils and looks away. Her own
+feelings are revealed to her clearly for the first time._] I begin to
+understand our American women now. Fire-flies--and the fire they gleam
+with is so cold that a midge couldn't warm his heart at it, let alone
+a man. You're not of the same race as a man! You married me for
+nothing, divorced me for nothing, because you _are_ nothing!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Wounded to the heart._] Jack! What are you saying?
+
+JOHN. [_With unrestrained emotion._] What,--you feigning an interest
+in me, feigning a lie--and in five minutes-- [_With a gesture,
+indicating the altar._] Oh, you've taught me the trick of your
+sex--you're the woman who's not a woman!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Weakly._] You're saying terrible things to me.
+
+JOHN. [_Low and with intensity._] You haven't been divorced from me
+long enough to forget--what you should be ashamed to remember.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Unable to face him and pretending not to understand him._]
+I don't know what you mean?
+
+JOHN. [_More forcibly and with manly emotion._] You're not able to
+forget me! You know you're not able to forget me; ask yourself if you
+are able to forget me, and when your heart, such as it is, answers
+"no," then-- [_The organ is plainly heard._] Well, then, prance gaily
+up to the altar and marry that, if you can!
+
+    _He abruptly quits the room and_ CYNTHIA, _moving to an
+    armchair, sinks into it, trembling._ MATTHEW _comes in and is
+    joined by_ MISS HENEAGE _and_ PHILIP. _They do not see_
+    CYNTHIA _buried deeply in her chair. Accordingly_, MISS
+    HENEAGE _moves over to the sofa and waits. They are all
+    dressed for an evening reception and_ PHILIP _is in the
+    traditional bridegroom's rig._
+
+MATTHEW. [_As he enters._] I am sure you will do your part, Sarah--in
+a spirit of Christian decorum. [_To_ PHILIP.] It was impossible to
+find my surplice, Philip, but the more informal the better.
+
+PHILIP. [_With pompous responsibility._] Where's Cynthia?
+
+            [MATTHEW _gives a glance around the room._
+
+MATTHEW. Ah, here's the choir! [_He moves forward to meet it._ CHOIR
+BOYS _come in very orderly; divide and take their places, an even
+number on each side of the altar of flowers._ MATTHEW _vaguely
+superintends._ PHILIP _gets in the way of the bell and moves out of
+the way._ THOMAS _comes in._] Thomas, I directed you--One moment, if
+you please. [_He indicates the tables and chairs which_ THOMAS
+_hastens to push against the wall._
+
+PHILIP. [_Walking forward and looking around him._] Where's Cynthia?
+[CYNTHIA _rises, and, at the movement_, PHILIP _sees her and moves
+toward her. The organ grows suddenly silent._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Faintly._] Here I am.
+
+            [MATTHEW _comes down. Organ plays softly._
+
+MATTHEW. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Ah, my very dear Cynthia, I knew there was
+something. Let me tell you the words of the hymn I have chosen:
+
+    "Enduring love; sweet end of strife!
+    Oh, bless this happy man and wife!"
+
+I'm afraid you feel--eh--eh!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Desperately calm._] I feel awfully queer--I think I need a
+scotch.
+
+    _Organ stops._ PHILIP _remains uneasily at a little
+    distance._ MRS. PHILLIMORE _and_ GRACE _enter back slowly, as
+    cheerfully as if they were going to hear the funeral service
+    read. They remain near the doorway._
+
+MATTHEW. Really, my dear, in the pomp and vanity--I mean--ceremony of
+this--this unique occasion, there should be sufficient exhilaration.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With extraordinary control._] But there isn't!
+
+            [_Feeling weak, she sits down._
+
+MATTHEW. I don't think my Bishop would approve of--eh--anything
+_before_!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Too agitated to know how much she is moved._] I feel very
+queer.
+
+MATTHEW. [_Piously sure that everything is for the best._] My dear
+child--
+
+CYNTHIA. However, I suppose there's nothing for it--now--but--to--to--
+
+MATTHEW. Courage!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Desperate and with a sudden explosion._] Oh, don't speak to
+me. I feel as if I'd been eating gunpowder, and the very first word of
+the wedding service would set it off!
+
+MATTHEW. My dear, your indisposition is the voice of nature. [CYNTHIA
+_speaks more rapidly and with growing excitement._ MATTHEW _makes a
+movement toward the_ CHOIR BOYS.
+
+CYNTHIA. Ah,--that's it--nature! [MATTHEW _shakes his head._] I've a
+great mind to throw the reins on nature's neck.
+
+PHILIP. Matthew! [_He moves to take his stand for the ceremony._
+
+MATTHEW. [_Looks at_ PHILIP. _To_ CYNTHIA.] Philip is ready. [PHILIP
+_comes forward and the organ plays the wedding march._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_To herself, as if at bay._] Ready? Ready? Ready?
+
+MATTHEW. Cynthia, you will take Miss Heneage's arm. [MISS HENEAGE
+_moves stiffly nearer to the table._] Sarah! [_He waves_ MISS HENEAGE
+_in the direction of_ CYNTHIA, _at which she advances a joyless step
+or two._ MATTHEW _goes over to give the choir a low direction._] Now
+please don't forget, my boys. When I raise my hands so, you begin,
+"Enduring love, sweet end of strife," etc. [CYNTHIA _has risen. On the
+table by which she stands is her long lace cloak._ MATTHEW _assumes
+sacerdotal importance and takes his position inside the altar of
+flowers._] Ahem! Philip! [_He signs to_ PHILIP _to take his
+position._] Sarah! [CYNTHIA _breathes fast, and supports herself
+against the table._ MISS HENEAGE, _with the silent air of a martyr,
+goes toward her and stands for a moment looking at her._] The ceremony
+will now begin.
+
+    _The organ plays Mendelssohn's wedding march._ CYNTHIA _turns
+    and faces_ MISS HENEAGE. MISS HENEAGE _slowly reaches_
+    CYNTHIA _and extends her hand in her readiness to lead the
+    bride to the altar._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Mrs. Karslake!
+
+PHILIP. Ahem! [MATTHEW _walks forward two or three steps._ CYNTHIA
+_stands as if turned to stone._
+
+MATTHEW. My dear Cynthia. I request you--to take your place. [CYNTHIA
+_moves one or two steps as if to go up to the altar. She takes_ MISS
+HENEAGE'S _hand and slowly they walk toward_ MATTHEW.] Your husband to
+be--is ready, the ring is in my pocket. I have only to ask you
+the--eh--necessary questions,--and--eh--all will be blissfully over in
+a moment.
+
+            [_The organ grows louder._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_At this moment, just as she reaches_ PHILIP, _stops, faces
+round, looks him_, MATTHEW, _and the rest in the face, and cries out
+in despair._] Thomas! Call a hansom! [THOMAS _goes out, leaving the
+door open._ MISS HENEAGE _crosses the room quickly_; MRS. PHILLIMORE,
+_shocked into action, rises._ CYNTHIA _catches up her cloak from the
+table._ PHILIP _turns and_ CYNTHIA _comes forward and stops._] I
+can't, Philip--I can't. [_Whistle of hansom is heard off; the organ
+stops._] It is simply a case of throwing the reins on nature's
+neck--up anchor--and sit tight! [MATTHEW _moves to_ CYNTHIA.] Matthew,
+don't come near me! Yes, yes, I distrust you. It's your business, and
+you'd marry me if you could.
+
+PHILIP. [_Watching her in dismay as she throws on her cloak._] Where
+are you going?
+
+CYNTHIA. I'm going to Jack.
+
+PHILIP. What for?
+
+CYNTHIA. To stop his marrying Vida. I'm blowing a hurricane inside, a
+horrible, happy hurricane! I know myself--I know what's the matter
+with me. If I married you and Miss Heneage--what's the use of talking
+about it--he mustn't marry that woman. He sha'n't. [CYNTHIA _has now
+all her wraps on and walks toward the door rapidly. To_ PHILIP.]
+Sorry! So long! Good-night and see you later.
+
+    _Reaching the door, she goes out in blind haste and without
+    further ceremony._ MATTHEW, _in absolute amazement, throws up
+    his arms._ PHILIP _is rigid._ MRS. PHILLIMORE _sinks into a
+    chair._ MISS HENEAGE _stands supercilious and unmoved._
+    GRACE, _the same. The choir, at MATTHEW'S gesture, mistakes
+    it for the concerted signal, and bursts lustily into the
+    Epithalamis:_
+
+    "Enduring love--sweet end of strife!
+    Oh, bless this happy man and wife!"
+
+
+            CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+
+    SCENE. _The scene is laid in_ JOHN KARSLAKE'S _study and
+    smoking-room. There is a bay window on the left. A door on
+    the left leads to stairs and the front of the house, while a
+    door at the back leads to the dining-room. A fireplace and a
+    mantel are on the right. A bookcase contains law and sporting
+    books. On the wall is a full-length portrait of_ CYNTHIA.
+    _Nothing of this portrait is seen by audience except the gilt
+    frame and a space of canvas. A large table with writing
+    materials is littered over with law books, sporting books,
+    papers, pipes, crops, a pair of spurs, &c. A wedding ring
+    lies on it. There are three very low easy-chairs. The general
+    appearance of the room is extremely gay and garish in colour.
+    It has the easy confusion of a man's room. There is a small
+    table on which, lying open, is a woman's sewing-basket, and,
+    beside it, a piece of rich fancy work, as if a lady had just
+    risen from sewing. Laid on the further end of it are a lady's
+    gloves. On a chair-back is a lady's hat. It is a half hour
+    later than the close of Act III. Curtains are drawn over the
+    window. A lamp on the table is lighted, as are, too, the
+    various electric lights. One chair is conspicuously standing
+    on its head._
+
+    NOGAM _is busy at the larger table. The door into the
+    dining-room is half open._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Coming in from the dining-room._] Eh--what did you say
+your name was?
+
+NOGAM. Nogam, sir.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Nogam? I've been here thirty minutes. Where are the
+cigars? [NOGAM _motions to a small table near the entrance door._]
+Thank you. Nogam, Mr. Karslake was to have followed us here,
+immediately. [_He lights a cigar._
+
+NOGAM. Mr. Karslake just now 'phoned from his club [SIR WILFRID _walks
+toward the front of the room._], and he's on his way home, sir.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Nogam, why is that chair upside down?
+
+NOGAM. Our orders, sir.
+
+VIDA. [_Speaking as she comes in._] Oh, Wilfrid! [SIR WILFRID _turns._
+VIDA _coming slowly toward him._] I can't be left longer alone with
+the lobster! He reminds me too much of Phillimore!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Karslake's coming; stopped at his club on the way! [_To_
+NOGAM.] You haven't heard anything of Mrs. Karslake--?
+
+NOGAM. [_Surprised._] No, sir!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_In an aside to_ VIDA, _as they move right to appear to
+be out of_ NOGAM'S _hearing._] Deucedly odd, ye know--for the Reverend
+Matthew declared she left Phillimore's house before _he_ did,--and she
+told them she was coming here!
+
+            [NOGAM _evidently takes this in._
+
+VIDA. Oh, she'll turn up.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Yes, but I don't see how the Reverend Phillimore had the
+time to get here and make us man and wife, don't y' know--
+
+VIDA. Oh, Matthew had a fast horse and Cynthia a slow one--or she's a
+woman and changed her mind! Perhaps she's gone back and married
+Phillimore. And besides, dear, Matthew wasn't in the house four
+minutes and a half; only just long enough to hoop the hoop. [_She
+twirls her new wedding ring gently about her finger._] Wasn't it lucky
+he had a ring in his pocket?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Rather.
+
+VIDA. And are you aware, dear, that Phillimore bought and intended it
+for Cynthia? Do come [_Going toward the door through which she has
+just entered._], I'm desperately hungry! Whenever I'm married that's
+the effect it has! [VIDA _goes out and_ SIR WILFRID, _following, stops
+to talk to_ NOGAM.
+
+SIR WILFRID. We'll give Mr. Karslake ten minutes, Nogam. If he does
+not come then, you might serve supper.
+
+            [_He joins_ VIDA.
+
+NOGAM. [_To_ SIR WILFRID.] Yes, sir. [_The outside door opens and_
+FIDDLER _walks in._
+
+FIDDLER. [_Easy and business-like._] Hello, Nogam, where's the
+guv'nor? That mare's off her oats, and I've got to see him.
+
+NOGAM. He'll soon be here.
+
+FIDDLER. Who was the parson I met leaving the house?
+
+NOGAM. [_Whispering._] Sir Wilfrid and Mrs. Phillimore have a date
+with the guv'nor in the dining-room, and the reverend gentleman-- [_He
+makes a gesture as of giving an ecclesiastical blessing._
+
+FIDDLER. [_Amazed._] He hasn't spliced them? [NOGAM _assents._] He
+has? They're married? Never saw a parson could resist it!
+
+NOGAM. Yes, but I've got another piece of news for you. Who do you
+think the Rev. Phillimore expected to find _here_?
+
+FIDDLER. [_Proud of having the knowledge._] Mrs. Karslake? I saw her
+headed this way in a hansom with a balky horse only a minute ago. If
+she hoped to be in at the finish--
+
+            [Fiddler _is about to set the chair on its legs._
+
+NOGAM. [_Quickly._] Mr. Fiddler, sir, please to let it alone.
+
+FIDDLER. [_Putting the chair down in surprise._] Does it live on its
+blooming head?
+
+NOGAM. Don't you remember? _She_ threw it on its head when she left
+here, and he won't have it up. Ah, that's it--hat, sewing-basket and
+all,--the whole rig is to remain as it was when she handed him his
+knock-out. [_A bell rings outside._
+
+FIDDLER. There's the guv'nor--I hear him!
+
+NOGAM. I'll serve the supper. [_Taking a letter from his pocket and
+putting it on the mantel._] Mr. Fiddler, would you mind giving this to
+the guv'nor? It's from his lawyer--his lawyer couldn't find him and
+left it with me. He said it was very important. [_The bell rings
+again. Speaking from the door to_ SIR WILFRID.] I'm coming, sir!
+
+    NOGAM _goes out, shutting the door._ JOHN KARSLAKE _comes in.
+    His hat is pushed over his eyes; his hands are buried in his
+    pockets, and his appearance generally is one of weariness and
+    utter discouragement. He walks into the room slowly and
+    heavily. He sees_ FIDDLER, _who salutes, forgetting the
+    letter._ JOHN _slowly sinks into the arm-chair near his study
+    table._
+
+JOHN. [_As he walks to his chair._] Hello, Fiddler! [_After a pause,_
+JOHN _throws himself into a chair, keeping his hat on. He throws down
+his gloves, sighing._
+
+FIDDLER. Came in to see you, sir, about Cynthia K.
+
+JOHN. [_Drearily._] Damn Cynthia K!--
+
+FIDDLER. Couldn't have a word with you?
+
+JOHN. [_Grumpy._] No!
+
+FIDDLER. Yes, sir.
+
+JOHN. Fiddler.
+
+FIDDLER. Yes, sir.
+
+JOHN. Mrs. Karslake-- [FIDDLER _nods._] You used to say she was our
+mascot?
+
+FIDDLER. Yes, sir.
+
+JOHN. Well, she's just married herself to a--a sort of a man--
+
+FIDDLER. Sorry to hear it, sir.
+
+JOHN. Well, Fiddler, between you and me, we're a pair of idiots.
+
+FIDDLER. Yes, sir!
+
+JOHN. And now it's too late!
+
+FIDDLER. Yes, sir--oh, beg your pardon, sir--your lawyer left a
+letter. [JOHN _takes letter; opens it and reads it, indifferently at
+first._
+
+JOHN. [_As he opens the letter._] What's he got to say, more than what
+his wire said?--Eh-- [_Dumbfounded as he reads._] what?--Will
+explain.--Error in wording of telegram.--Call me up.-- [_Turning
+quickly to the telephone._] The man can't mean that she's
+still--Hello! Hello! [JOHN _listens._
+
+FIDDLER. Would like to have a word with you, sir--
+
+JOHN. Hello, Central!
+
+FIDDLER. That mare--
+
+JOHN. [_Consulting the letter, and speaking into the 'phone._] 33246a
+38! Did you get it?
+
+FIDDLER. That mare, sir, she's got a touch of malaria--
+
+JOHN. [_At the 'phone._] Hello, Central--33246a--38!--Clayton
+Osgood--yes, yes, and say, Central--get a move on you!
+
+FIDDLER. If you think well of it, sir, I'll give her a tonic--
+
+JOHN. [_Still at the 'phone._] Hello! Yes--yes--Jack Karslake. Is that
+you, Clayton? Yes--yes--well--
+
+FIDDLER. Or if you like, sir, I'll give her--
+
+JOHN. [_Turning on_ FIDDLER.] Shut up! [_To 'phone._] What was that?
+Not you--not you--a technical error? You mean to say that Mrs.
+Karslake is still--my--Hold the wire, Central--get off the wire! Get
+off the wire! Is that you, Clayton? Yes, yes--she and I are still--I
+got it! Good-bye! [_He hangs up the receiver; falls back into a chair.
+For a moment he is overcome. He takes up telephone book._
+
+FIDDLER. All very well, Mr. Karslake, but I must know if I'm to give
+her--
+
+JOHN. [_Turning over the leaves of the telephone book in hot haste._]
+What's Phillimore's number?
+
+FIDDLER. If you've no objections, I think I'll give her a--
+
+JOHN. L--M--N--O--P--It's too late! She's married by this!
+Married!--and--my God--I--I am the cause. Phillimore--
+
+FIDDLER. I'll give her--
+
+JOHN. Give her wheatina!--give her grape-nuts--give her away!
+[FIDDLER, _biding his time, walks toward the window._] Only be quiet!
+Phillimore!
+
+            [SIR WILFRID _comes in._
+
+SIR WILFRID. Hello! We'd almost given you up!
+
+JOHN. [_In his agitation unable to find_ Phillimore's _number._] Just
+a moment! I'm trying to get Phillimore on the 'phone to--to tell Mrs.
+Karslake--
+
+SIR WILFRID. No good, my boy--she's on her way here! [JOHN _drops the
+book and looks up dumbfounded._] The Reverend Matthew was here, y'
+see--and he said--
+
+JOHN. [_Rising, turns._] Mrs. Karslake is coming here? [SIR WILFRID
+_nods._] To this house? Here?
+
+SIR WILFRID. That's right.
+
+JOHN. Coming here? You're sure? [SIR WILFRID _nods assent._] Fiddler,
+I want you to stay here, and if Mrs. Karslake comes, don't fail to let
+me know! Now then, for heaven's sake, what did Matthew say to you?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Come along in and I'll tell you.
+
+JOHN. On your life now, Fiddler, don't fail to let me--
+
+            [SIR WILFRID _carries_ JOHN _off with him._
+
+VIDA. [_From the dining-room._] Ah, here you are!
+
+FIDDLER. Phew!
+
+    _A moment's pause, and_ CYNTHIA _opens the front door, and
+    comes in very quietly, almost shyly, as if she were uncertain
+    of her welcome._
+
+CYNTHIA. Fiddler! Where is he? Has he come? Is he here? Has he gone?
+
+FIDDLER. [_Rattled._] Nobody's gone, ma'am, except the Reverend
+Matthew Phillimore.
+
+CYNTHIA. Matthew? He's been here and gone? [FIDDLER _nods assent._]
+You don't mean I'm too late? He's married them already?
+
+FIDDLER. Nogam says he married them!
+
+CYNTHIA. He's married them! Married! Married before I could get here!
+[_Sinking into an armchair._] Married in less time than it takes to
+pray for rain! Oh, well, the church--the church is a regular quick
+marriage counter. [VIDA _and_ JOHN _are heard in light-hearted
+laughter._] Oh!
+
+FIDDLER. I'll tell Mr. Karslake--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Rising and going to the dining-room door, turns the key in
+the lock and takes it out._] No--I wouldn't see him for the world!
+[_Moving to the work-table with the key._] If I'm too late, I'm too
+late! and that's the end of it! [_Laying the key on the table, she
+remains standing near it._] I've come, and now I'll go! [_There is a
+long pause during which_ CYNTHIA _looks slowly about the room, then
+sighs and changes her tone._] Well, Fiddler, it's all a good deal as
+it used to be in my day.
+
+FIDDLER. No, ma'am--everything changed, even the horses.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Absent-mindedly._] Horses--how are the horses?
+
+    [_Throughout her talk with_ Fiddler _she gives the idea that
+    she is saying good-bye to her life with_ JOHN.
+
+FIDDLER. Ah, when husband and wife splits, ma'am, it's the horses that
+suffer. Oh, yes, ma'am, we're all changed since you give us the
+go-by,--even the guv'nor.
+
+CYNTHIA. How's he changed?
+
+FIDDLER. Lost his sharp for horses, and ladies, ma'am--gives 'em both
+the boiled eye.
+
+CYNTHIA. I can't say I see any change; there's my portrait--I suppose
+he sits and pulls faces at me.
+
+FIDDLER. Yes, ma'am, I think I'd better tell him of your bein' here.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Gently but decidedly._] No, Fiddler, no! [_Again looking
+about her._] The room's in a terrible state of disorder. However, your
+new mistress will attend to that. [_Pause._] Why, that's not her hat!
+
+FIDDLER. Yours, ma'am.
+
+CYNTHIA. Mine? [_Walking to the table to look at it._] Is that my
+work-basket? [_After a pause._] My gloves? [FIDDLER _assents._] And I
+suppose-- [_Hurriedly going to the writing-table._] My--yes, there it
+is: my wedding ring!--just where I dropped it! Oh, oh, oh, he keeps it
+like this--hat, gloves, basket and ring, everything just as it was
+that crazy, mad day when I-- [_She glances at_ FIDDLER _and breaks
+off._] But for heaven's sake, Fiddler, set that chair on its feet!
+
+FIDDLER. Against orders, ma'am.
+
+CYNTHIA. Against orders?
+
+FIDDLER. You kicked it over, ma'am, the day you left us.
+
+CYNTHIA. No wonder he hates me with the chair in that state! He nurses
+his wrath to keep it warm. So, after all, Fiddler, everything _is_
+changed, and that chair is the proof of it. I suppose Cynthia K is
+the only thing in the world that cares a whinney whether I'm alive or
+dead. [_She breaks down and sobs._] How is she, Fiddler?
+
+FIDDLER. Off her oats, ma'am, this evening.
+
+CYNTHIA. Off her oats! Well, she loves me, so I suppose she will die,
+or change, or--or something. Oh, she'll die, there's no doubt about
+that--she'll die. [FIDDLER, _who has been watching his chance, takes
+the key off the table while she is sobbing, tiptoes up stage, unlocks
+the door and goes out. After he has done so_, CYNTHIA _rises and dries
+her eyes._] There--I'm a fool--I must go--before--before--he--
+
+            [_As she speaks her last word_, JOHN _comes in swiftly._
+
+JOHN. Mrs. Karslake!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Confused._] I--I--I just heard Cynthia K was ill-- [JOHN
+_assents._ CYNTHIA _tries to put on a cheerful and indifferent
+manner._] I--I ran round--I--and--and-- [_Pausing, she turns and takes
+a few steps._] Well, I understand it's all over.
+
+JOHN. [_Cheerfully._] Yes, it's all over.
+
+CYNTHIA. How is the bride?
+
+JOHN. Oh, she's a wonder.
+
+CYNTHIA. Indeed! Did she paw the ground like the war-horse in the
+Bible? I'm sure when Vida sees a wedding ring she smells the battle
+afar off. As for you, my dear Karslake, I should have thought once
+bitten, twice shy! But, you know best.
+
+    VIDA, _unable to keep her finger long out of a pie, saunters
+    in._
+
+VIDA. Oh, Cynthia, I've just been through it again, and I feel as if I
+were eighteen. There's no use talking about it, my dear, with a woman
+it's never the second time! And how nice you were, Jack,--he never
+even laughed at us! [SIR WILFRID _follows her with hat and cane._ VIDA
+_kisses_ JOHN.] That's the wages of virtue!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_In time to see her kiss_ JOHN.] I say, is it the
+custom? Every time she does that, my boy, you owe me a thousand
+pounds. [_Seeing_ CYNTHIA, _who approaches them, he looks at her and_
+JOHN _in turn._] Mrs. Karslake. [_To_ JOHN.] And then you say it's not
+an extraordinary country!
+
+            [CYNTHIA _is more and more puzzled._
+
+VIDA. [_To_ JOHN.] See you next Derby, Jack! [_Walking to the door.
+To_ SIR WILFRID.] Come along, Wilfrid! We really ought to be going.
+[_To_ CYNTHIA.] I hope, dear, you haven't married him! Phillimore's a
+tomb! Good-bye, Cynthia--I'm so happy! [_As she goes._] Just think of
+the silly people, dear, that only have this sensation once in a
+lifetime!
+
+            [JOHN _follows_ VIDA _out the door._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Good-bye, Mrs. Karslake. And I say, ye
+know, if you have married that dull old Phillimore fellah, why, when
+you've divorced him, come over and stay at Traynham! I mean, of
+course, ye know, bring your new husband. There'll be lots o' horses to
+show you, and a whole covey of jolly little Cates-Darbys. Mind you
+come! [_With real delicacy of feeling and forgetting his wife._] Never
+liked a woman as much in my life as I did you!
+
+VIDA. [_Outside; calling him._] Wilfrid, dear!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Loyal to the woman who has caught him._] --except the
+one that's calling me!
+
+    JOHN _returns, and_ SIR WILFRID, _nodding to him, goes out._
+    JOHN _shuts the door and crosses the room. There is a pause._
+
+CYNTHIA. So you're not married?
+
+JOHN. No. But I know that you imagined I was.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_After a pause._] I suppose you think a woman has no right
+to divorce a man--and still continue to feel a keen interest in his
+affairs?
+
+JOHN. Well, I'm not so sure about that, but I don't quite see how--
+
+CYNTHIA. A woman can be divorced--and still-- [JOHN _assents; she hides
+her embarrassment._] Well, my dear Karslake, you've a long life before
+you, in which to learn how such a state of mind is possible! So I
+won't stop to explain. Will you be kind enough to get me a cab? [_She
+moves to the door._
+
+JOHN. Certainly. I was going to say I am not surprised at your feeling
+an interest in me. I'm only astonished that, having actually married
+Phillimore, you come here--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Indignantly._] I'm not married to him!
+
+JOHN. [_Silent for a moment._] I left you on the brink--made me feel a
+little uncertain.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_In a matter of course tone._] I changed my mind--that's
+all.
+
+JOHN. [_Taking his tone from her._] Of course. [_After an interval._]
+Are you going to marry him?
+
+CYNTHIA. I don't know.
+
+JOHN. Does he know you--
+
+CYNTHIA. I told him I was coming here.
+
+JOHN. Oh! He'll turn up here, then--eh? [CYNTHIA _is silent._] And
+you'll go back with him, I suppose?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Talking at random._] Oh--yes--I suppose so. I--I haven't
+thought much about it.
+
+JOHN. [_Changing his tone._] Well, sit down; do. Till he comes--talk
+it over. [_He places the armchair more comfortably for her._] This is
+a more comfortable chair!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Shamefacedly._] You never liked me to sit in that one!
+
+JOHN. Oh, well--it's different now. [CYNTHIA _moves and sits down,
+near the upset chair. There is a long pause, during which_ JOHN
+_thoughtfully paces the room._] You don't mind if I smoke?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Shaking her head._] No.
+
+JOHN. [_Lighting his pipe and sitting down on the arm of a chair._] Of
+course, if you find my presence painful, I'll--skiddoo.
+
+    _He indicates the door._ CYNTHIA _shakes her head._ JOHN
+    _smokes his pipe and remains seated._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Suddenly and quickly._] It's just simply a fact, Karslake,
+and that's all there is to it--if a woman has once been married--that
+is, the first man she marries--then--she may quarrel, she may hate
+him--she may despise him--but she'll always be jealous of him with
+other women. Always! [JOHN _takes this as if he were simply glad to
+have the information._
+
+JOHN. Oh--H'm! ah--yes--yes.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_After a pause._] You probably felt jealous of Phillimore.
+
+JOHN. [_Reasonably, sweetly, and in doubt._] N-o! [_Apologetically._]
+I felt simply: Let him take his medicine.
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh!
+
+JOHN. I beg your pardon--I meant--
+
+CYNTHIA. You meant what you said!
+
+JOHN. [_Moving a step toward her._] Mrs. Karslake; I apologize--I
+won't do it again. But it's too late for you to be out alone--Philip
+will be here in a moment--and of course, then--
+
+CYNTHIA. It isn't what you _say_--it's--it's--it's everything. It's
+the entire situation. Suppose by any chance I don't marry Phillimore!
+And suppose I were seen at two or three in the morning leaving my
+former husband's house! It's all wrong. I have no business to be here!
+I'm going! You're perfectly horrid to me, you know--and--the whole
+place--it's so familiar, and so--so associated with--with--
+
+JOHN. Discord and misery--I know--
+
+CYNTHIA. Not at all with discord and misery! With harmony and
+happiness--with--with first love, and infinite hope--and--and--Jack
+Karslake,--if you don't set that chair on its legs, I think I'll
+explode. [JOHN _crosses the room rapidly, and sets the chair on its
+legs. His tone changes._
+
+JOHN. [_While setting chair on its legs._] There! I beg your pardon.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Nervously._] I believe I hear Philip. [_She rises._
+
+JOHN. [_Going up to the window._] N-o! That's the policeman trying the
+front door! And now, see here, Mrs. Karslake,--you're only here for a
+short minute, because you can't help yourself, but I want you to
+understand that I'm not trying to be disagreeable--I don't want to
+revive all the old unhappy--
+
+CYNTHIA. Very well, if you don't--give me my hat. [JOHN _does so._]
+And my sewing! And my gloves, please! [_She indicates the several
+articles which lie on the small table._] Thanks! [CYNTHIA _throws the
+lot into the fireplace, and returns to the place she has left near
+table._] There! I feel better! And now--all I ask is--
+
+JOHN. [_Laughing._] My stars, what a pleasure it is!
+
+CYNTHIA. What is?
+
+JOHN. Seeing you in a whirlwind!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Wounded by his seeming indifference._] Oh!
+
+JOHN. No, but I mean, a real pleasure! Why not? Time's passed since
+you and I were together--and--eh--
+
+CYNTHIA. And you've forgotten what a vile temper I had!
+
+JOHN. [_Reflectively._] Well, you did kick the stuffing out of the
+matrimonial buggy--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Pointedly but with good temper._] It wasn't a buggy; it was
+a break cart-- [_She stands back of the arm-chair._] It's all very well
+to blame me! But when you married me, I'd never had a bit in my mouth!
+
+JOHN. Well, I guess I had a pretty hard hand. Do you remember the time
+you threw both your slippers out of the window?
+
+CYNTHIA. Yes, and do you remember the time you took my fan from me by
+force?
+
+JOHN. After you slapped my face with it!
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh, oh! I hardly touched your face! And do you remember the
+day you held my wrists?
+
+JOHN. You were going to bite me!
+
+CYNTHIA. Jack! I never! I showed my teeth at you! And I _said_ I would
+bite you!
+
+JOHN. Cynthia, I never knew you to break your word! [_He laughs.
+Casually._] And anyhow--they were awfully pretty teeth! [CYNTHIA,
+_though bolt upright, has ceased to seem pained._] And I say--do you
+remember, Cyn--
+
+            [_He leans over her armchair to talk._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_After a pause._] You oughtn't to call me "Cyn"--it's not
+nice of you. It's sort of cruel. I'm not--Cyn to you now.
+
+JOHN. Awfully sorry; didn't mean to be beastly, Cyn. [CYNTHIA _turns
+quickly._ JOHN _stamps his foot._] Cynthia! Sorry. I'll make it a
+commandment: thou shalt not Cyn!!
+
+            [CYNTHIA _laughs and wipes her eyes._
+
+CYNTHIA. How can you, Jack? How can you?
+
+JOHN. Well, hang it, my dear child, I--I'm sorry, but you know I
+always got foolish with you. Your laugh'd make a horse laugh. Why,
+don't you remember that morning in the park before breakfast--when you
+laughed so hard your horse ran away with you!
+
+CYNTHIA. I do, I do! [_Both laugh. The door opens and_ NOGAM _comes
+in, unnoticed by either._] But what was it started me laughing?
+[_Laughing, she sits down and laughs again._] That morning. Wasn't it
+somebody we met? [_Laughing afresh._] Wasn't it a man on a horse? [_As
+her memory pieces the picture, she again goes off into laughter._
+
+JOHN. [_Laughing too._] Of course! You didn't know him in those days!
+But I did! And he looked a sight in the saddle!
+
+    [NOGAM, _trying to catch their attention, moves toward the
+    table._
+
+CYNTHIA. Who was it?
+
+JOHN. Phillimore!
+
+CYNTHIA. He's no laughing matter now. [_Seeing_ NOGAM.] Jack, he's
+here!
+
+JOHN. Eh? Oh, Nogam?
+
+NOGAM. Mr. Phillimore, sir--
+
+JOHN. In the house?
+
+NOGAM. On the street in a hansom, sir--and he requests Mrs.
+Karslake--
+
+JOHN. That'll do, Nogam. [NOGAM _goes out and there is a pause._ JOHN,
+_on his way to the window, looks at_ CYNTHIA, _who has slowly risen
+and turned her back to him._] Well, Cynthia?
+
+            [_He speaks almost gravely and with finality._]
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Trembling._] Well?
+
+JOHN. It's the hour of decision; are you going to marry him?
+[_Pause._] Speak up!
+
+CYNTHIA. Jack,--I--I--
+
+JOHN. There he is--you can join him. [_He points to the street._
+
+CYNTHIA. Join Phillimore--and go home--with him--to his house, and
+Miss Heneage and--
+
+JOHN. The door's open. [_He points to the door._
+
+CYNTHIA. No, no! It's mean of you to suggest it!
+
+JOHN. You won't marry--
+
+CYNTHIA. Phillimore--no; never. [_Running to the window._] No; never,
+never, Jack.
+
+JOHN. [_Opening the window and calling out._] It's all right, Judge.
+You needn't wait.
+
+    _There is a pause._ JOHN _leaves the window and bursts into
+    laughter. He moves toward the door and closes it._ CYNTHIA
+    _looks dazed._
+
+CYNTHIA. Jack! [JOHN _laughs._] Yes, but I'm here, Jack.
+
+JOHN. Why not?
+
+CYNTHIA. You'll have to take me round to the Holland House!
+
+JOHN. Of course, I will! But, I say, Cynthia, there's no hurry.
+
+CYNTHIA. Why, I--I--can't stay here.
+
+JOHN. No, of course you can't stay here. But you can have a bite,
+though. [CYNTHIA _shakes her head._ JOHN _places the small chair,
+which was upset, next to the table, and the armchair close by._] Oh, I
+insist. Just look at yourself--you're as pale as a sheet and--here,
+here. Sit right down. I insist! By George, you must do it! [CYNTHIA
+_moves to the chair drawn up to the table, and sits down._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Faintly._] I _am_ hungry.
+
+JOHN. Just wait a moment.
+
+            [JOHN _rushes out, leaving the door open._
+
+CYNTHIA. I don't want more than a nibble! [_After a pause._] I am
+sorry to give you so much trouble.
+
+JOHN. No trouble at all. [_From the dining-room comes the cheerful
+noise of glasses and silver._] A hansom, of course, to take you round
+to your hotel? [_Speaking as he returns with a tray._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_To herself._] I wonder how I ever dreamed I could marry
+that man.
+
+JOHN. [_Now by the table._] Can't imagine! There!
+
+CYNTHIA. I am hungry. Don't forget the hansom.
+
+    [_She eats; he waits on her, setting this and that before
+    her._
+
+JOHN. [_Goes to the door, opens it and calls._] Nogam, a hansom at
+once.
+
+NOGAM. [_From without._] Yes, sir.
+
+JOHN. [_Again at the table, shows, and from now on continues to show,
+his true feelings for her._] How does it go?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Faintly._] It goes all right. Thanks!
+
+            [_Hardly eating at all._
+
+JOHN. You always used to like anchovy. [CYNTHIA _nods and eats._]
+Claret? [CYNTHIA _shakes her head._] Oh, but you must!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Tremulously._] Ever so little. [_He fills her glass and
+then his._] Thanks!
+
+JOHN. Here's to old times! [_Raising his glass._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Very tremulous._] Please not!
+
+JOHN. Well, here's to your next husband.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Very tenderly._] Don't!
+
+JOHN. Oh, well, then, what shall the toast be?
+
+CYNTHIA. I'll tell you-- [_After a pause._] you can drink to the
+relation I am to you!
+
+JOHN. [_Laughing._] Well--what relation are you?
+
+CYNTHIA. I'm your first wife once removed!
+
+JOHN. [_Laughing, drinks._] I say, you're feeling better.
+
+CYNTHIA. Lots.
+
+JOHN. [_Reminiscent._] It's a good deal like those mornings after the
+races--isn't it?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Nods._] Yes. [_Half-rising._] Is that the hansom?
+
+JOHN. [_Going up to the window._] No.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Sitting down again._] What is that sound?
+
+JOHN. Don't you remember?
+
+CYNTHIA. No.
+
+JOHN. That's the rumbling of the early milk wagons.
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh, Jack.
+
+JOHN. Do you recognize it now?
+
+CYNTHIA. Do I? We used to hear that--just at the hour, didn't we--when
+we came back from awfully jolly late suppers and things!
+
+JOHN. H'm!
+
+CYNTHIA. It must be fearfully late. I must go.
+
+    _She rises and moves to the chair where she has left her
+    cloak. She sees that_ JOHN _will not help her and puts it on
+    herself._
+
+JOHN. Oh, don't go--why go?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Embarrassed and agitated._] All good things come to an end,
+you know.
+
+JOHN. They don't need to.
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh, you don't mean that! And, you know, Jack, if I were
+caught--seen at this hour, leaving this house, you know--it's the most
+scandalous thing any one ever did, my being here at all. Good-bye,
+Jack! [_After a pause and almost in tears._] I'd like to say,
+I--I--I--well, I sha'n't be bitter about you hereafter,
+and-- [_Halting._] Thank you awfully, old man, for the fodder and all
+that! [_She turns to go out._
+
+JOHN. Mrs. Karslake--wait--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Stopping to hear._] Well?
+
+JOHN. [_Serious._] I've rather an ugly bit of news for you.
+
+CYNTHIA. Yes?
+
+JOHN. I don't believe you know that I have been testing the validity
+of the decree of divorce which you procured.
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh, have you?
+
+JOHN. Yes; you know I felt pretty warmly about it.
+
+CYNTHIA. Well?
+
+JOHN. Well, I've been successful. [_After a pause._] The decree's been
+declared invalid. Understand?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Looking at him for a moment; then speaking._]
+Not--precisely.
+
+JOHN. [_After a moment's silence._] I'm awfully sorry--I'm awfully
+sorry, Cynthia, but, you're my wife still.
+
+            [_There is a pause._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With rapture._] Honour bright?
+
+            [_She sinks into the armchair._
+
+JOHN. [_Nods. Half laughingly._] Crazy country, isn't it?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Nods. After an interval._] Well, Jack--what's to be done?
+
+JOHN. [_Gently._] Whatever you say.
+
+            [_He moves a few steps toward her._
+
+NOGAM. [_Quietly coming in._] Hansom, sir.
+
+            [_He goes out and_ CYNTHIA _rises._
+
+JOHN. Why don't you finish your supper?
+
+            [CYNTHIA _hesitates._
+
+CYNTHIA. The--the--hansom--
+
+JOHN. Why go to the Holland? After all--you know, Cyn, you're at home
+here.
+
+CYNTHIA. No, Jack, I'm not--I'm not at home here--unless--unless--
+
+JOHN. Out with it!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Bursting into tears._] Unless I--unless I'm at home in your
+heart, Jack!
+
+JOHN. What do you think?
+
+CYNTHIA. I don't believe you want me to stay.
+
+JOHN. Don't you?
+
+CYNTHIA. No, no, you hate me still. You never can forgive me. I know
+you can't. For I can never forgive myself. Never, Jack, never, never!
+
+            [_She sobs and he takes her in his arms._
+
+JOHN. [_Very tenderly._] Cyn! I love you! [_Strongly._] And you've got
+to stay! And hereafter you can chuck chairs around till all's blue!
+Not a word now.
+
+    [_He draws her gently to a chair._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Wiping her tears._] Oh, Jack! Jack!
+
+JOHN. I'm as hungry as a shark. We'll nibble together.
+
+CYNTHIA. Well, all I can say is, I feel that of all the improprieties
+I ever committed this--this--
+
+JOHN. This takes the claret, eh? Oh, Lord, how happy I am!
+
+CYNTHIA. Now don't say that! You'll make me cry more.
+
+    _She wipes her eyes._ JOHN _takes out the wedding ring from
+    his pocket; he lifts a wine-glass, drops the ring into it and
+    offers her the glass._
+
+JOHN. Cynthia!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Looking at it and wiping her eyes._] What is it?
+
+JOHN. Benedictine!
+
+CYNTHIA. Why, you know I never take it.
+
+JOHN. Take this one for my sake.
+
+CYNTHIA. That's not benedictine. [_With gentle curiosity._] What is
+it?
+
+JOHN. [_Slides the ring out of the glass and puts his arm about_
+CYNTHIA. _He slips the ring on to her finger and, as he kisses her
+hand, says_:] Your wedding ring!
+
+
+            CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Notes
+
+Page 614: Phillmore changed to Phillimore. (MISS HENEAGE. Thomas, Mr.
+Phillmore's sherry?) (THOMAS _gives the list to_ MRS. PHILLMORE _and
+moves away._)
+
+Page 654: entremely changed to extremely. ([JOHN _looks entremely dark
+and angry;_)
+
+Page 679: nad changed to and. (WILFRID _nad_ CYNTHIA _are practically
+alone_)
+
+Page 685: tradional changed to traditional. (in the tradional
+bridegroom's rig.)
+
+Page 691: couldn'. changed to couldn't (his lawyer couldn'. find him)
+
+Page 691: importantt changed to important. (He said it was very
+importantt)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Representative Plays by American
+Dramatists: 1856-1911: The New York Idea, by Langdon Mitchell
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+The New York Idea, by Langdon Mitchell.
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Representative Plays by American
+Dramatists: 1856-1911: The New York Idea, by Langdon Mitchell
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Representative Plays by American Dramatists: 1856-1911: The New York Idea
+
+Author: Langdon Mitchell
+
+Editor: Montrose J. Moses
+
+Release Date: May 23, 2008 [EBook #25565]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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+
+
+<h1>THE NEW YORK IDEA</h1>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p class="figcenter" style="width: 432px;">
+<img src="images/image001.jpg" width="432" height="580" alt="Langdon Mitchell" title="Langdon Mitchell" />
+<span class="caption">Langdon Mitchell</span>
+</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="LANGDON_MITCHELL" id="LANGDON_MITCHELL"></a>LANGDON MITCHELL</h2>
+
+<p class="center">(Born Philadelphia, Pa., February 17, 1862)</p>
+
+
+<p>The performance of "The New York Idea" at the Lyric
+Theatre, New York, on November 19, 1906, was one of the rare,
+distinguished events in the American Theatre. It revealed the
+fact that at last an American playwright had written a drama
+comparable with the very best European models, scintillating
+with clear, cold brilliancy, whose dialogue carried with it an
+exceptional literary style. It was a play that showed a vitality
+which will serve to keep it alive for many generations, which will
+make it welcome, however often it is revived; for there is a universal
+import to its satire which raises it above the local, social
+condition it purports to portray. And though there is nothing
+of an ideal character about its situations, though it seems to be
+all head, with a minimum of apparent heart, it none the less is
+universal in the sense that Restoration comedy is universal. It
+presents a type of vulgarity, of sporting spirit, that is common in
+every generation, whether in the time of Congreve and Wycherley,
+whether in the period of Sheridan or Oscar Wilde. Its wit is
+not dependent on local colour, though ostensibly it is written
+about New York. On its first presentment, it challenged good
+writing on the part of the critics. High Comedy always does
+that&mdash;tickles the brain and stimulates it, drives it at a pace not
+usually to be had in the theatre. Is it comedy or is it farce, the
+critics queried? Is Mr. Mitchell sincere, and does he flay the evil
+he so photographically portrays? Does he treat the sacred subject
+of matrimony too flippantly? And should the play, in order
+to be effective, have a moral tag, or should it be, what on the
+surface it appears to be, a series of realistic scenes about people
+whom one cannot admire and does not want to know intimately?
+Some of the writers found the picture not to their liking&mdash;that is
+the effect good satire sometimes has when it strikes home. Yet
+when Grace George revived "The New York Idea" in a spirit so
+different from Mrs. Fiske's, nine years after, on September 28,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_600" id="Page_600">[Pg 600]</a></span>1915, at the Playhouse, New York, the <i>Times</i> was bound to make
+the following confession: "A vast array of American authors
+have turned out plays innumerable, but not one of them has
+quite matched in sparkling gayety and wit this work of Langdon
+Mitchell's. And the passing years have left its satire still
+pointed. They have not dimmed its polish nor so much as
+scratched its smart veneer."</p>
+
+<p>The play was written expressly for Mrs. Fiske. Its hard,
+sharp interplay of humour was knowingly cut to suit her hard,
+sharp method of acting. Her interpretation was a triumph of
+head over heart. Grace George tried to read into <i>Cynthia
+Karslake</i> an element of romance which is suggested in the text,
+but which was somewhat over-sentimentalized by her soft portrayal.
+There is some element of relationship between "The New
+York Idea" and Henry Arthur Jones' "Mary Goes First;" there
+is the same free air of sporting life, so graphically set forth in
+"Lord and Lady Algy." But the American play is greater than
+these because of its impersonal strain.</p>
+
+<p>In a letter to the present Editor, Mr. Mitchell has broken
+silence regarding the writing of "The New York Idea." Never
+before has he tried to analyze its evolution. He says:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>The play was written for Mrs. Fiske. The choice of subject was
+mine. I demanded complete freedom in the treatment, and my most
+wise manager, Mr. Harrison Grey Fiske, accorded this. The play
+was produced and played as written, with the exception of one or two
+short scenes, which were not acceptable to Mrs. Fiske; that is, she
+felt, or would have felt, somewhat strained or unnatural in these
+scenes. Accordingly, I cut them out, or rather rewrote them. The
+temperament of the race-horse has to be considered&mdash;much more,
+that of the 'star'.</p>
+
+<p>When I was writing the play, I had really no idea of satirizing
+divorce or a law or anything specially temperamental or local. What
+I wanted to satirize was a certain extreme frivolity in the American
+spirit and in our American life&mdash;frivolity in the deep sense&mdash;not just
+a girl's frivolity, but that profound, sterile, amazing frivolity which
+one observes and meets in our churches, in political life, in literature,
+in music; in short, in every department of American thought, feeling
+and action. The old-fashioned, high-bred family in "The New York
+Idea" are solemnly frivolous, and the fast, light-minded, highly intelligent
+hero and heroine are frivolous in their own delightful way&mdash;frivolity,
+of course, to be used for tragedy or comedy. Our frivolity
+is, I feel, on the edge of the tragic. Indeed, I think it entirely tragic,
+and there are lines, comedy lines, in "The New York Idea," that
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_601" id="Page_601">[Pg 601]</a></span>indicate this aspect of the thing.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, there is more than merely satire or frivolity in the
+play: there is the Englishman who appears to Americans to be
+stupid on account of his manner, but who is frightfully intelligent;
+and there are also the energy and life and vigor of the two men
+characters. There is, too, throughout the play, the conscious humour
+of these two characters, and of the third woman, <i>Vida</i>. The
+clergyman is really more frivolous often and far less conscious of his
+frivolity&mdash;enough, that I rather thought one of the strongest things
+about the play was the consciousness of their own humour, of the
+three important characters.</p>
+
+<p>The characters were selected from that especial class, or set,
+in our Society, whose ancestors and traditions go back to colonial
+times. They are not merely <i>society</i> characters, for, of course, people
+in society may lack all traditions. I mention this merely because
+my selection of characters from such a set of people gives the play a
+certain mellowness and a certain air which it otherwise would not
+have. If <i>Jack</i> and <i>Cynthia</i> were both completely self-made, or the
+son and daughter of powerful, self-made people, their tone could
+not be the same.</p>
+
+<p>The piece was played in England as a farce; and it was given
+without the permission of the author or American manager. It was
+given for a considerable number of performances in Berlin, after
+the Great War began. In the German translation it was called
+"Jonathan's Daughter."<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> Our relations with Germany at the time
+were strained on account of 'certain happenings', but, notwithstanding,
+the play was extraordinarily well received.</p></div>
+
+<p>When "The New York Idea" was first published by the Walter
+Baker Co., of Boston, it carried as an introduction a notice of
+the play written by William Archer, and originally published in
+the London <i>Tribune</i> of May 27, 1907. This critique follows the
+present foreword, as its use in the early edition represents Mr.
+Mitchell's choice.</p>
+
+<p>The writing of "The New York Idea" was not Mr. Mitchell's
+first dramatic work for Mrs. Fiske. At the New York Fifth
+Avenue Theatre, on September 12, 1899, she appeared in
+"Becky Sharp," his successful version of Thackeray's "Vanity
+Fair," which held the stage for some time, and was later revived
+with considerable renewal of its former interest. Two years after,
+rival versions were presented in London, one by David Balsillie
+(Theatre Royal, Croydon, June 24, 1901) and the other by
+Robert Hichens and Cosmo Gordon Lennox (Prince of Wales's
+Theatre, August 27, 1901)&mdash;the latter play used during the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_602" id="Page_602">[Pg 602]</a></span>
+existence of the New Theatre (New York). Most of Mr.
+Mitchell's attempts in play-writing have been in dramatization,
+first of his father's "The Adventures of Fran&ccedil;ois," and later of
+Thackeray's "Pendennis," Atlantic City, October 11, 1916. He
+was born February 17, 1862, at Philadelphia, the son of Silas
+Weir Mitchell, and received his education largely abroad. He
+studied law at Harvard and Columbia, and was admitted to the
+bar in 1882. He was married, in 1892, to Marion Lea, of London,
+whose name was connected with the early introduction of Ibsen
+to the English public; she was in the initial cast of "The New
+York Idea," and to her the play is dedicated.</p>
+
+
+<p class="center">
+<span class="smcap"><b>Mr. William Archer's Notice of<br />
+"The New York Idea."</b></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>... This play, too, I was unable to see, but I have read
+it with extraordinary interest. It is a social satire so largely
+conceived and so vigorously executed that it might take an
+honourable place in any dramatic literature. We have nothing
+quite like it on the latter-day English stage. In tone and treatment
+it reminds one of Mr. Carton; but it is far broader in conception
+and richer in detail than "Lord and Lady Algy" or "Lady
+Huntworth's Experiment." In France, it might perhaps be
+compared to "La Famille Benoiton" or "Le Monde ou l'on
+s'ennuie," or better, perhaps, to a more recent, but now almost
+forgotten satire of the 'nineties, "Paris Fin-de-Si&egrave;cle."</p>
+
+<p>I find it very hard to classify "The New York Idea" under any
+of the established rubrics. It is rather too extravagant to rank
+as a comedy; it is much too serious in its purport, too searching
+in its character-delineation and too thoughtful in its wit, to be
+treated as a mere farce. Its title&mdash;not, perhaps, a very happy
+one&mdash;is explained in this saying of one of the characters: "Marry
+for whim and leave the rest to the divorce court&mdash;that's the New
+York idea of marriage." And again: "The modern American
+marriage is like a wire fence&mdash;the woman's the wire&mdash;the posts
+are the husbands. One&mdash;two&mdash;three! And if you cast your eye
+over the future, you can count them, post after post, up hill, down
+dale, all the way to Dakota."</p>
+
+<p>Like all the plays, from Sardou's "Divor&ccedil;ons" onward, which
+deal with a too facile system of divorce, this one shows a discontented
+woman, who has broken up her home for a caprice, suffering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_603" id="Page_603">[Pg 603]</a></span>
+agonies of jealousy when her ex-husband proposes to make use
+of the freedom she has given him, and returning to him at last
+with the admission that their divorce was at least "premature."
+In this central conception there is nothing particularly original.
+It is the wealth of humourous invention displayed in the details
+both of character and situation that renders the play remarkable.</p>
+
+<p>It is interesting to note, by the way, a return on Mr. Mitchell's
+part to that convenient assumption of the Restoration and eighteenth
+century comedy writers that any one in holy orders could
+solemnize a legal marriage at any time or place, without the
+slightest formality of banns, witnesses, registration or anything
+of the sort. One gathers that in New York the entrance to and
+the exit from the holy estate of matrimony are equally prompt
+and easy; or that, as one of the characters puts it, "the church is
+a regular quick-marriage counter."</p>
+
+<p>I presume there is some exaggeration in this, and that a marriage
+cannot actually be celebrated at midnight, over a champagne-and-lobster
+supper, by a clergyman who happened to drop
+in. But there can be no doubt that whatever the social merits or
+demerits of the system, facility of divorce and remarriage is an
+immense boon to the dramatist. It places within his reach an
+inexhaustible store of situations and complications which are
+barred to the English playwright, to whom divorce always means
+an ugly and painful scandal. The moralist may insist that this
+ought always to be the case; and indeed that is the implication
+which Mr. Mitchell, as a moralist, conveys to us.</p>
+
+<p>He sacrifices the system of divorce for every trivial flaw of
+temper which prevails in the society he depicts; but he no doubt
+realizes that his doctrine as a satirist is hostile to his interest as a
+dramatist. Restrict the facilities of divorce and you at once
+restrict the possibilities of matrimonial comedy. Marriage becomes
+no longer a comic, but a tragic institution.</p>
+
+<p>In order to keep his theme entirely on the comic plane, Mr.
+Mitchell has given no children to either of the two couples whom
+he puts through such a fantastic quadrille. Law or no law, the
+separation of its parents is always a tragedy to the child; which
+is not to say, of course, that their remaining together may not in
+some cases be the more tragic of the two alternatives. Be this as
+it may, Mr. Mitchell has eluded the issue.</p>
+
+<p>Nor has he thereby falsified his problem, for his characters
+belong to that class of society in which, as Mr. Dooley points out,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_604" id="Page_604">[Pg 604]</a></span>
+the multiplication of automobiles is preferred to that of progeny.
+But he has not omitted to hint at the problem of the children,
+and, as it were, confess his deliberate avoidance of it. He does
+so in a touch of exquisite irony. <i>John</i> and <i>Cynthia Karslake</i> are
+a couple devoted, not to automobiles, but to horses. Even their
+common passion for racing cannot keep them together; but their
+divorce is so "premature," and leaves <i>John</i> so restless and dissatisfied,
+that he actually neglects the cares of the stable. His
+favourite mare, Cynthia K, falls ill, and when his trainer brings
+him the news he receives it with shocking callousness. Then the
+trainer meets <i>Cynthia</i> and complains to her of her ex-husband's
+indifference. "Ah, ma'am," he says, "when husband and wife
+splits, it's the horses that suffers." I know not where to look for
+a speech of profounder ironic implication. More superficial, but
+still a good specimen of Mr. Mitchell's wit, is <i>William Sudley's</i>
+remark as to <i>John Karslake</i>: "Oh, yes, he comes of a very
+respectable family, though I remember his father served a term
+in the Senate."</p>
+
+<p>Altogether "The New York Idea" is, from the intellectual
+point of view, the most remarkable piece of work I have encountered
+in America. It is probably too true to the details of
+American life to have much success in England; but the situation
+at the end of the third act could not fail to bring down the house
+even here. It would take too long to describe it in detail. Suffice
+it to say that just at the point where <i>Cynthia Karslake</i> dismisses
+her second bridegroom, to return to her first, the choir assembled
+for the marriage ceremony, mistaking a signal, bursts forth with
+irresistibly ludicrous effect into "The Voice That Breathed O'er
+Eden."<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a></p></div>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> At the Kammerspiel Theatre, Berlin, under the direction of Max Reinhardt,
+October 7, 1916. There are translations in Danish, Swedish and Hungarian.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> <i>The Editor takes the occasion to express his thanks to Mr. William Archer for his
+kind permission to quote this analysis of the play.</i></p></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_605" id="Page_605">[Pg 605]</a></span>
+</p>
+<h2>LYRIC THEATRE<br /></h2>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="lyric">
+<tr><td align='left'>REGINALD DeKOVEN,</td><td align='right'>Proprietor</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>SAM S. and LEE SHUBERT (Inc.),</td><td align='right'>Lessees and Managers</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+<p class="center">NINTH AND LAST WEEK.<br /><br />
+BEGINNING MONDAY EVENING. JANUARY 14, 1907.<br /><br />
+Matinee Saturday.<br />
+</p>
+
+<h5>Under the Direction of HARRISON GREY FISKE<br /></h5>
+
+<h3>MRS. FISKE<br /></h3>
+
+<h5>&mdash;AND&mdash;<br /></h5>
+
+<h4>THE MANHATTAN COMPANY<br /></h4>
+
+<h6>Presenting a Play in Four Acts, Entitled<br /></h6>
+
+<h3>THE NEW YORK IDEA<br /></h3>
+
+<h4>BY LANGDON MITCHELL<br /><br /></h4>
+
+<p class="center">Cast of Characters.<br /></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="cast">
+<tr><td align='left'>Philip Phillimore</td><td align='right'>Charles Harbury</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mrs. Phillimore, his mother</td><td align='right'>Ida Vernon</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Reverend Mathew Phillimore, his brother</td><td align='right'>Dudley Clinton</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Grace Phillimore, his sister</td><td align='right'>Emily Stevens</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Miss Heneage, his aunt</td><td align='right'>Blanche Weaver</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>William Sudley, his cousin</td><td align='right'>Dudley Digges</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mrs. Vida Phillimore, his divorced wife</td><td align='right'>Marion Lea</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Brooks, her footman</td><td align='right'>Frederick Kerby</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Benson, her maid</td><td align='right'>Belle Bohn</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby</td><td align='right'>George Arliss</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>John Karslake</td><td align='right'>John Mason</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mrs. Cynthia Karslake, his divorced wife</td><td align='right'>Mrs. Fiske</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Nogam, his valet</td><td align='right'>James Morley</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Tim Fiddler</td><td align='right'>Robert V. Ferguson</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Thomas, the Phillimore's family servant</td><td align='right'>Richard Clarke</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ACT_I">ACT I</a>&mdash;Drawing-Room in the Phillimore house. Washington Square.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Wednesday afternoon, at five o'clock.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ACT_II">ACT II</a>&mdash;Mrs. Vida Phillimore's Boudoir. Fifth Avenue.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Thursday morning at eleven.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ACT_III">ACT III</a>&mdash;Same as Act I.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Thursday evening, at ten.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ACT_IV">ACT IV</a>&mdash;John Karslake's House. Madison Avenue.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Thursday, at midnight.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Scene&mdash;New York</td><td align='right'>    Time&mdash;The Present.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p class="center">The production staged by Mr. and Mrs. Fiske.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_607" id="Page_607">[Pg 607]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE NEW YORK IDEA</h2>
+
+<h3><i>A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS</i></h3>
+
+<h2>By <span class="smcap">Langdon Mitchell</span></h2>
+
+<h6>COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY LANGDON MITCHELL</h6>
+
+
+<p><small>[This play, copyrighted in 1907, 1908, and published originally by Walter H. Baker
+and Co., of Boston, Mass., is fully protected and the right of representation is
+reserved. Application for the right of performing this play may be made to Alice
+Kauser, 1402 Broadway, New York, N. Y. The Editor takes this opportunity of
+thanking Mr. Langdon Mitchell for his great interest in the compilation of this
+Collection, and for his permission to have "The New York Idea" used in it. The
+complete revision of the stage directions, especially for this volume, makes it
+possible to regard the play, here printed, as the only authentic version.]</small></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_608" id="Page_608">[Pg 608]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE PEOPLE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="people">
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Philip Phillimore</span>, <i>a Judge on the bench, age 50</i>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Grace Phillimore</span>, <i>his sister, age 20</i>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>, <i>his mother, age 70</i>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>, <i>his aunt, age 60</i>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Matthew Phillimore</span>, <i>his brother&mdash;a bishop, age 45</i>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">William Sudley</span>, <i>his cousin, age 50</i>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Vida Phillimore</span>, <i>his divorced wife, age 35</i>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">John Karslake</span>, <i>lawyer, politician and racing-man, age 35</i>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Cynthia Karslake</span>, <i>his divorced wife, age 25</i>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Brooks, Mrs. Phillimore's</span> <i>footman</i>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Tim Fiddler, Mr. Karslake's</span> <i>trainer</i>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Nogam</span>, <i>his valet</i>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>, <i>the family servant of the</i> <span class="smcap">Phillimores</span>, <i>age 45</i>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Benson, Mrs. Vida Phillimore's</span> <i>maid, age 20</i>.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_609" id="Page_609">[Pg 609]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b>The following is the Cast for the evening performance at the<br />
+Lyric Theatre, New York, Monday, November 19, 1906.</b></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="castnov">
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Philip Phillimore</span></td><td align='left'>Charles Harbury.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>, <i>his mother</i></td><td align='left'>Ida Vernon.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Reverend Matthew Phillimore</span>, <i>his brother</i></td><td align='left'>Dudley Clinton.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Grace Phillimore</span>, <i>his sister</i></td><td align='left'>Emily Stevens.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>, <i>his aunt</i></td><td align='left'>Blanche Weaver.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">William Sudley</span>, <i>his cousin</i></td><td align='left'>William B. Mack.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Vida Phillimore</span>, <i>his divorced wife</i></td><td align='left'>Marion Lea.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Brooks</span>, <i>her footman</i></td><td align='left'>George Harcourt.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Benson</span>, <i>her maid</i></td><td align='left'>Belle Bohn.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby</span></td><td align='left'>George Arliss.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">John Karslake</span></td><td align='left'>John Mason.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Cynthia Karslake</span>, <i>his divorced wife</i></td><td align='left'>Mrs. Fiske.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Nogam</span>, <i>his valet</i></td><td align='left'>Dudley Digges.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Tim Fiddler</span></td><td align='left'>Robert V. Ferguson.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Thomas, the Phillimore's</span> <i>family servant</i></td><td align='left'>Richard Clarke.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Scene&mdash;New York.</td><td align='left'>Time&mdash;The Present.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<p class="center"><b>Revived in New York at The Playhouse, Tuesday Evening,<br />
+September 28, 1915, with the following Cast.</b></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="castsep">
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Philip Phillimore</span></td><td align='left'>Lumsden Hare.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Grace Phillimore</span></td><td align='left'>Norah Lamison.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span></td><td align='left'>Eugenie Woodward.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span></td><td align='left'>Josephine Lovett.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Matthew Phillimore</span></td><td align='left'>Albert Reed.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">William Sudley</span></td><td align='left'>John Cromwell.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Vida Phillimore</span></td><td align='left'>Mary Nash.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby</span></td><td align='left'>Ernest Lawford.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">John Karslake</span></td><td align='left'>Conway Tearle.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Cynthia Karslake</span></td><td align='left'>Grace George.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Brooks</span></td><td align='left'>Selwyn Joyce.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Tim Fiddler</span></td><td align='left'>Tracy Barrow.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Nogam</span></td><td align='left'>G. Guthrie McClintic.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Thomas</span></td><td align='left'>Richard Clarke.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Benson</span></td><td align='left'>Anita Wood.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_611" id="Page_611">[Pg 611]</a></span></p>
+<h3><i>To Marion Lea</i></h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_613" id="Page_613">[Pg 613]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE NEW YORK IDEA</h2>
+
+
+<h2><a name="ACT_I" id="ACT_I"></a>ACT I.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Scene.</span> <i>Living-room in the house of</i> <span class="smcap">Philip Phillimore</span>. <i>Five</i>
+<span class="smcap">P. M.</span> <i>of an afternoon of May. The general air and appearance of
+the room is that of an old-fashioned, decorous, comfortable interior.
+There are no electric lights and no electric bells. Two bell ropes
+as in old-fashioned houses. The room is in dark tones inclining
+to sombre and of old-fashioned elegance.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Seated in the room are</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>, <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>and</i>
+<span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>is a solidly built, narrow-minded
+woman in her sixties. She makes no effort to look younger than
+she is, and is expensively but quietly dressed, with heavy elegance.
+She commands her household and her family connection, and on
+the strength of a large and steady income feels that her opinion has
+its value.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>is a semi-professional invalid,
+refined and unintelligent. Her movements are weak and fatigued.
+Her voice is habitually plaintive and she is entirely a lady without
+a trace of being a woman of fashion.</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>is an easy-mannered,
+but respectful family servant, un-English both in style
+and appearance. He has no deportment worthy of being so called,
+and takes an evident interest in the affairs of the family he serves.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>is seated at the tea-table, facing the footlights.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs.
+Phillimore</span> <i>is seated at the table on the right.</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>stands
+near by. Tea things on table. Decanter of sherry in coaster.
+Bread and butter on plate. Vase with flowers. Silver match-box.
+Large old-fashioned tea urn. Guard for flame. "The Evening
+Post" on tea-table.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>both
+have cups of tea.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>sits up very straight, and pours
+tea for</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span>, <i>who enters from door. She is a pretty and fashionably
+dressed girl of twenty. She speaks superciliously, coolly,
+and not too fast. She sits on the sofa gracefully and without
+lounging. She wears a gown suitable for spring visiting, hat,
+parasol, and gloves.</i></p></div>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>As she moves to the sofa.</i>] I never in my life walked
+so far and found so few people at home. [<i>Pauses. Takes off<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_614" id="Page_614">[Pg 614]</a></span>
+gloves. Somewhat querulously.</i>] The fact is the nineteenth of
+May is ridiculously late to be in town.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Thomas, Mr. Phillimore's sherry?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>Indicating the particular table.</i>] The sherry, ma'am.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Mr. Phillimore's <i>Post</i>?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>Pointing to "The Evening Post" on the tea-table.</i>]
+The <i>Post</i>, ma'am.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Indicating cup.</i>] Miss Phillimore.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>takes cup of tea to</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span>. <i>Silence. They all sip tea.</i>
+<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>goes back, fills sherry glass, remaining round and about
+the tea-table. They all drink tea during their entire conversation.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> The Dudleys were at home. They wished to know
+when my brother Philip was to be married, and where and how?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> If the Dudleys were persons of breeding,
+they'd not intrude their curiosity upon you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> I like Lena Dudley.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>Speaking slowly and gently.</i>] Do I know
+Miss Dudley?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> She knows Philip. She expects an announcement of
+the wedding.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> I trust you told her that my son, my sister
+and myself are all of the opinion that those who have been divorced
+should remarry with modesty and without parade.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> I told the Dudleys Philip's wedding was here, to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>, <i>picking up a sheet of
+paper from the table.</i>] I have spent the afternoon, Mary, in
+arranging and listing the wedding gifts, and in writing out the
+announcements of the wedding. I think I have attained a proper
+form of announcement. [<i>Taking the sheet of note-paper and giving
+it to</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>.] Of course the announcement Philip himself made
+was quite out of the question. [<span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>smiles.</i>] However, there is
+mine. [<i>She points to the paper.</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>gives the list to</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs.
+Phillimore</span> <i>and moves away.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> I hope you'll send an announcement to the Dudleys.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>Prepared to make the best of things, plaintively
+reads.</i>] "Mr. Philip Phillimore and Mrs. Cynthia Dean
+Karslake announce their marriage, May twentieth, at three<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_615" id="Page_615">[Pg 615]</a></span>
+o'clock, Nineteen A, Washington Square, New York." [<i>Replacing
+the paper on</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas's</span> <i>salver.</i>] It sounds very nice.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>returns the paper to</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> In my opinion it barely escapes sounding
+nasty. However, it is correct. The only remaining question is&mdash;to
+whom the announcement should not be sent. [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>goes
+out.</i>] I consider an announcement of the wedding of two divorced
+persons to be in the nature of an intimate communication. It
+not only announces the wedding&mdash;it also announces the divorce.
+[<i>Returning to her teacup.</i>] The person I shall ask counsel of is
+cousin William Sudley. He promised to drop in this afternoon.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> Oh! We shall hear all about Cairo.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> William is judicious. [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>returns.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>With finality.</i>] Cousin William will disapprove
+of the match unless a winter in Cairo has altered his moral
+tone.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>Announcing.</i>] Mr. Sudley.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>He ushers in</i> <span class="smcap">William Sudley</span>, <i>a little oldish gentleman. He is and
+appears thoroughly insignificant. But his opinion of the place
+he occupies in the world is enormous. His manners, voice,
+presence, are all those of a man of breeding and self-importance.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Rising and greeting</i>
+<span class="smcap">Sudley</span>; <i>a little tremulously.</i>] My dear William!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>withdraws.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Shakes hands with</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>, <i>soberly glad
+to see them.</i>] How d'ye do, Mary? [<i>Greeting</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>.]
+A very warm May you're having, Sarah.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>Coming forward to welcome him.</i>] Dear Cousin
+William!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Wasn't it warm in Cairo when you left?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>She will have the strict truth, or nothing; still, on account of</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley's</span>
+<i>impeccable respectability, she treats him with more than
+usual leniency.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Sitting down.</i>] We left Cairo six weeks ago, Grace,
+so I've had no news since you wrote in February that Philip was
+engaged. [<i>After a pause.</i>] I need not to say I consider Philip's
+engagement excessively regrettable. He is a judge upon the
+Supreme Court bench with a divorced wife&mdash;and such a divorced
+wife!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_616" id="Page_616">[Pg 616]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> Oh, but Philip has succeeded in keeping everything as
+quiet as possible.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Acidly.</i>] No, my dear! He has not succeeded in
+keeping his former wife as quiet as possible. We had not been
+in Cairo a week when who should turn up but Vida Phillimore.
+She went everywhere and did everything no woman should!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>With unfeigned interest.</i>] Oh, what did she do?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> She "did" Cleopatra at the tableaux at Lord Errington's!
+She "did" Cleopatra, and she did it robed only in some
+diaphanous material of a nature so transparent that&mdash;in fact she
+appeared to be draped in moonshine. [<span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>indicates
+the presence of</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>and rises.</i>] That was only the beginning.
+As soon as she heard of Philip's engagement, she gave a dinner in
+honour of it! Only divorc&eacute;es were asked! And she had a dummy&mdash;yes,
+my dear, a dummy!&mdash;at the head of the table. He stood
+for Philip&mdash;that is he sat for Philip!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>Rising and moving to the table.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Irritated and disgusted.</i>] Ah!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>With dismay and pain.</i>] Dear me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Confident of the value of her opinion.</i>] I disapprove
+of Mrs. Phillimore.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Taking a cigarette.</i>] Of course you do, but has Philip
+taken to Egyptian cigarettes in order to celebrate my winter at
+Cairo?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> Those are Cynthia's.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Thinking that no one is worth knowing whom he does
+not know.</i>] Who is "Cynthia?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> Mrs. Karslake&mdash;She's staying here, Cousin William.
+She'll be down in a minute.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Shocked.</i>] You don't mean to tell me&mdash;?&mdash;!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Yes, William, Cynthia is Mrs. Karslake&mdash;Mrs.
+Karslake has no New York house. I disliked the publicity
+of a hotel in the circumstances, and, accordingly, when she
+became engaged to Philip, I invited her here.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Suspicious and distrustful.</i>] And may I ask <i>who</i> Mrs.
+Karslake is?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>With confidence.</i>] She was a Deane.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Walking about the room, sorry to be obliged to concede
+good birth to any but his own blood.</i>] Oh, oh&mdash;well, the Deanes are
+extremely nice people. [<i>Approaching the table.</i>] Was her father
+J. William Deane?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_617" id="Page_617">[Pg 617]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Nodding, still more secure.</i>] Yes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Giving in with difficulty.</i>] The family is an old one.
+J. William Deane's daughter? Surely he left a very considerable&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Oh, fifteen or twenty millions.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Determined not to be dazzled.</i>] If I remember rightly
+she was brought up abroad.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> In France and England&mdash;and I fancy brought
+up with a very gay set in very gay places. In fact she is what is
+called a "sporty" woman.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Always ready to think the worst.</i>] We might put up
+with that. But you don't mean to tell me Philip has the&mdash;the&mdash;assurance
+to marry a woman who has been divorced by&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Not at all. Cynthia Karslake divorced her
+husband.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Gloomily, since he has less fault to find than he expected.</i>]
+She divorced him! Ah!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He seeks the consolation of his tea.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> The suit went by default. And, my dear
+William, there are many palliating circumstances. Cynthia was
+married to Karslake only seven months. There are no&mdash; [<i>Glancing
+at</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span>] no hostages to Fortune! Ahem!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Still unwilling to be pleased.</i>] Ah! What sort of a
+young woman is she?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>With the superiority of one who is not too popular.</i>]
+Men admire her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> She's not conventional.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>Showing a faint sense of justice.</i>] I am
+bound to say she has behaved discreetly ever since she arrived
+in this house.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Yes, Mary&mdash;but I sometimes suspect that
+she exercises a degree of self-control&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Glad to have something against some one.</i>] She claps
+on the lid, eh? And you think that perhaps some day she'll boil
+over? Well, of course fifteen or twenty millions&mdash;but who's
+Karslake?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>Very superciliously.</i>] He owns Cynthia K. She's the
+famous mare.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> He's Henry Karslake's son.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Beginning to make the best of fifteen millions-in-law.</i>]
+Oh!&mdash;Henry!&mdash;Very respectable family. Although I remember<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_618" id="Page_618">[Pg 618]</a></span>
+his father served a term in the Senate. And so the wedding is
+to be to-morrow?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>Assenting.</i>] To-morrow.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Rising, his respectability to the front when he thinks of
+the ceremony.</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>rises.</i>] To-morrow. Well, my dear Sarah,
+a respectable family with some means. We must accept her.
+But on the whole, I think it will be best for me not to see the
+young woman. My disapprobation would make itself apparent.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>Whispering to</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span>.] Cynthia's coming.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He doesn't hear.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>comes in, absorbed in reading a newspaper. She is a
+young creature in her twenties, small and high-bred, full of the
+love of excitement and sport. Her manner is wide-awake and
+keen, and she is evidently in no fear of the opinion of others.
+Her dress is exceedingly elegant, but with the elegance of a
+woman whose chief interests lie in life out of doors. There is
+nothing hard or masculine in her style, and her expression is
+youthful and ingenuous.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Sententious and determinately epigrammatic.</i>] The
+uncouth modern young woman, eight feet high, with a skin like
+a rhinoceros and manners like a cave-dweller&mdash;an habitu&eacute; of the
+race-track and the divorce court&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span>.] Cousin William!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> Eh, oh!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Reading her newspaper, advances into the room,
+immersed, excited, trembling. She lowers paper to catch the light.</i>]
+"Belmont favourite&mdash;six to one&mdash;Rockaway&mdash;Rosebud, and
+Flying Cloud. Slow track&mdash;raw wind&mdash;h'm, h'm, h'm&mdash;At
+the half, Rockaway forged ahead, when Rosebud under the lash
+made a bold bid for victory&mdash;neck by neck&mdash;for a quarter&mdash;when
+Flying Cloud slipped by the pair and won on the post by a
+nose in one forty nine!" [<i>Speaking with the enthusiasm of a sport.</i>]
+Oh, I wish I'd seen the dear thing do it. Oh, it's Mr. Sudley!
+You must think me very rude. How do you do, Mr. Sudley?</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>Going over to</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span>.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Bowing without cordiality.</i>] Mrs. Karslake.</p>
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>pauses, feeling he should say something. As he says
+nothing, she speaks again.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I hope Cairo was delightful? Did you have a
+smooth voyage?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_619" id="Page_619">[Pg 619]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Pompously.</i>] You must permit me, Mrs. Karslake&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With good temper, somewhat embarrassed, and
+talking herself into ease.</i>] Oh, please don't welcome me to the
+family. All that formal part is over, if you don't mind. I'm one
+of the tribe now! You're coming to our wedding to-morrow?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> My dear Mrs. Karslake, I think it might be wiser&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Still with cordial good temper.</i>] Oh, but you must
+come! I mean to be a perfect wife to Philip and all his relations!
+That sounds rather miscellaneous, but you know what I mean.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Very sententious.</i>] I am afraid&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Gay and still covering her embarrassment.</i>] If you
+don't come, it'll look as if you were not standing by Philip when
+he's in trouble! You'll come, won't you&mdash;but of course you
+will.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>After a self-important pause.</i>] I will come, Mrs.
+Karslake. [<i>Pausing.</i>] Good-afternoon. [<i>In a tone of sorrow and
+light compassion.</i>] Good-bye, Mary. Good-afternoon, Sarah.
+[<i>Sighing.</i>] Grace, dear. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>.] At what hour did
+you say the alimony commences?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Quickly and commandingly to cover his slip.</i>]
+The ceremony is at three <span class="smcap">P. M.</span>, William.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>walks toward the door.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>With fatigued voice and manner as she
+rises.</i>] I am going to my room to rest awhile.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She trails slowly from the room.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span>.] Oh, William, one moment&mdash;I
+entirely forgot! I've a most important social question to ask
+you! [<i>She accompanies him slowly to the door.</i>] in regard to the
+announcements of the wedding&mdash;who they shall be sent to and
+who not. For instance&mdash;the Dudleys&mdash; [<i>Deep in their talk</i>,
+<span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>pass out together.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>From the sofa.</i>] So that's Cousin William?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>From the tea-table.</i>] Don't you like him?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Calmly sarcastic.</i>] Like him? I love him. He's so
+generous. He couldn't have received me with more warmth if
+I'd been a mulatto.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>comes in, preceded by</i> <span class="smcap">Phillimore</span>. <span class="smcap">Philip Phillimore</span>
+<i>is a self-centered, short-tempered, imperious member of the
+respectable fashionables of New York. He is well and solidly
+dressed, and in manner and speech evidently a man of family.
+He is accustomed to being listened to in his home circle and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_620" id="Page_620">[Pg 620]</a></span>
+from the bench, and it is practically impossible for him to believe
+that he can make a mistake.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>Outraged.</i>] Really you know&mdash;      [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>
+<i>moves to the table.</i>] Philip!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>nods to</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>absent-mindedly. He is in his working suit
+and looks tired. He walks into the room silently; goes over to
+the tea-table, bends over and kisses</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>on the forehead.
+Goes to his chair, which</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>has moved to suit him. He
+sits, and sighs with satisfaction.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>As if exhausted by brain work.</i>] Ah, Grace! [<span class="smcap">Grace</span>
+<i>immediately sails out of the room.</i>] Well, my dear, I thought I
+should never extricate myself from the court-room. You look
+very debonnair!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> The tea's making. You'll have your glass of sherry?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>The strain of the day evidently having been severe.</i>]
+Thanks! [<i>Taking it from</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>and sighing.</i>] Ah!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I can see it's been a tiring day with you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>His great tussle with the world leaving him unworsted
+but utterly spent.</i>] H'm!      [<i>He gratefully sips his tea.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Were the lawyers very long-winded?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Almost too tired for speech.</i>] Prolix to the point of
+somnolence. It might be affirmed without inexactitude that the
+prolixity of counsel is the somnolence of the judiciary. I am
+fatigued, ah! [<i>A little suddenly, awaking to the fact that his orders
+have not been carried out to the letter.</i>] Thomas! My <i>Post</i> is not
+in its usual place!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> It's here, Philip.      [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>gets it.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Thanks, my dear. [<i>Opening "The Post."</i>] Ah! This
+hour with you&mdash;is&mdash;is really the&mdash;the&mdash; [<i>Absently.</i>] the one vivid
+moment of the day. [<i>Reading.</i>] H'm&mdash;shocking attack by the
+President on vested interests. H'm&mdash;too bad&mdash;but it's to be
+expected. The people insisted on electing a desperado to the
+presidential office&mdash;they must take the hold-up that follows.
+[<i>After a pause, he reads.</i>] H'm! His English is lacking in idiom,
+his spelling in conservatism, his mind in balance, and his character
+in repose.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Amiable but not very sympathetic.</i>] You seem more
+fatigued than usual. Another glass of sherry, Philip?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Oh, I ought not to&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I think you seem a little more tired than usual.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_621" id="Page_621">[Pg 621]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Perhaps I am. [<i>She pours out sherry.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>takes
+glass but does not sip.</i>] Ah, this hour is truly a grateful form of
+restful excitement. [<i>After an inspired interval.</i>] You, too, find
+it&mdash;eh?      [<i>He looks at</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With veiled sarcasm.</i>] Decidedly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Decidedly what, my dear?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Her sarcasm still veiled.</i>] Restful.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> H'm! Perhaps I need the calm more than you do.
+Over the case to-day I actually&mdash;eh&mdash; [<i>Sipping his tea.</i>] slumbered.
+I heard myself do it. That's how I know. A dressmaker
+sued on seven counts. [<i>Reading his newspaper.</i>] Really, the
+insanity of the United States Senate&mdash;you seem restless, my dear.
+Ah&mdash;um&mdash;have you seen the evening paper? I see there has been
+a lightning change in the style or size of hats which ladies&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Sweeping a descriptive motion with his hand, he gives the paper to</i>
+<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>then moves his glass, reads, and sips.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> The lamp, Thomas.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>blows out the alcohol lamp on the tea-table with difficulty.
+Blows twice. Movement of</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>each time. Blows again.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Irritably.</i>] Confound it, Thomas! What are you
+puffing and blowing at&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> It's out, ma'am&mdash;yes, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> You're excessively noisy, Thomas!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>In a fluster.</i>] Yes, sir&mdash;I am.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Soothing</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas's</span> <i>wounded feelings.</i>] We don't
+need you, Thomas.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> Yes, ma'am.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Puffing and blowing and shaking and quaking like an
+automobile in an ecstasy!      [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>meekly withdraws.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Not unsympathetically.</i>] Too bad, Philip! I hope
+my presence isn't too agitating?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Ah&mdash;it's just because I value this hour with you,
+Cynthia&mdash;this hour of tea and toast and tranquillity. It's quite
+as if we were married&mdash;happily married&mdash;already.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Admitting that married life is a blank, begins to look
+through paper.</i>] Yes, I feel as if we were married already.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Not recognizing her tone.</i>] Ah! It's the calm, you
+see.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Without warmth.</i>] The calm? Yes&mdash;yes, it's&mdash;it's
+the calm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_622" id="Page_622">[Pg 622]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Sighs.</i>] Yes, the calm&mdash;the Halcyon calm of&mdash;of
+second choice. H'm! [<i>He reads and turns over the leaves of the
+paper.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>reads. There is a silence.</i>] After all, my dear&mdash;the
+feeling which I have for you&mdash;is&mdash;is&mdash;eh&mdash;the market is in a
+shocking condition of plethora! H'm&mdash;h'm&mdash;and what are you
+reading?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Embarrassed.</i>] Oh, eh&mdash;well&mdash;I&mdash;eh&mdash;I'm just
+running over the sporting news.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Oh!      [<i>He looks thoughtful.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Beginning to forget</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>and to remember more
+interesting matters.</i>] I fancied Hermes would come in an easy
+winner. He came in nowhere. Nonpareil was ridden by Henslow&mdash;he's
+a rotten bad rider. He gets nervous.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Still interested in his newspaper.</i>] Does he? H'm!
+I suppose you do retain an interest in horses and races. H'm&mdash;I
+trust some day the&mdash;ah&mdash;law will attract&mdash;Oh [<i>Turning a
+page.</i>], here's the report of my opinion in that dressmaker's case&mdash;Haggerty
+<i>vs.</i> Phillimore.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Puzzled.</i>] Was the case brought against you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Oh&mdash;no. The suit was brought by Haggerty, Miss
+Haggerty, a dressmaker, against the&mdash;in fact, my dear, against
+the former Mrs. Phillimore.      [<i>After a pause, he returns to his
+reading.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Curious about the matter.</i>] How did you decide it?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> I was obliged to decide in Mrs. Phillimore's favour.
+Haggerty's plea was preposterous.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Did you&mdash;did you meet the&mdash;the&mdash;former&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> No.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I often see her at afternoon teas.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> How did you recognize&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Why&mdash; [<i>Opening the paper.</i>] because Mrs. Vida
+Phillimore's picture appears in every other issue of most of the
+evening papers. And I must confess I was curious. But, I'm
+sure you find it very painful to meet her again.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Slowly, considering.</i>] No,&mdash;would you find it so
+impossible to meet Mr.&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Much excited and aroused.</i>] Philip! Don't speak of
+him. He's nothing. He's a thing of the past. I never think of
+him. I forget him!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Somewhat sarcastic.</i>] That's extraordinarily original
+of you to forget him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_623" id="Page_623">[Pg 623]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Gently, and wishing to drop the subject.</i>] We each of
+us have something to forget, Philip&mdash;and John Karslake is to
+me&mdash;Well, he's dead!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> As a matter of fact, my dear, he <i>is</i> dead, or the next
+thing to it&mdash;for he's bankrupt.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>After a pause.</i>] Bankrupt? [<i>Excited and moved.</i>]
+Let's not speak of him. I mean never to see him or think about
+him or even hear of him! [<i>He assents. She reads her paper. He
+sips his tea and reads his paper. She turns a page, starts and cries
+out.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> God bless me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> It's a picture of&mdash;of&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> John Karslake?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Picture of him, and one of me, and in the middle
+between us "Cynthia K!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> "Cynthia K!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Excited.</i>] My pet riding mare! The best horse he
+has! She's an angel even in a photograph! Oh! [<i>Reading.</i>]
+"John Karslake drops a fortune at Saratoga." [<i>Rises and walks
+up and down excitedly.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>takes the paper and reads.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Unconcerned, as the matter hardly touches him.</i>] Hem&mdash;ah&mdash;Advertises
+country place for sale&mdash;stables, famous
+mare "Cynthia K"&mdash;favourite riding-mare of former Mrs. Karslake,
+who is once again to enter the arena of matrimony with the
+well-known and highly respected judge of&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Sensitive and much disturbed.</i>] Don't! Don't,
+Philip, please don't!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> My dear Cynthia&mdash;take another paper&mdash;here's my
+<i>Post</i>! You'll find nothing disagreeable in <i>The Post</i>.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>takes paper.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>After reading, near the table.</i>] It's much worse in
+<i>The Post</i>. "John Karslake sells the former Mrs. Karslake's
+jewels&mdash;the famous necklace now at Tiffany's, and the sporty
+ex-husband sells his wife's portrait by Sargent!" Philip, I can't
+stand this.      [<i>Puts paper on the table.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Really, my dear, Mr. Karslake is bound to appear
+occasionally in print&mdash;or even you may have to meet him.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[Thomas <i>comes in.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Determined and distressed.</i>] I won't meet him! I
+won't meet him. Every time I hear his name or "Cynthia K's"
+I'm so depressed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_624" id="Page_624">[Pg 624]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>Announcing with something like reluctance.</i>] Sir, Mr.
+Fiddler. Mr. Karslake's trainer.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Fiddler</span> <i>walks in. He is an English horse trainer, a wide-awake,
+stocky, well-groomed little cockney. He knows his own mind and
+sees life altogether through a stable door. Well-dressed for his
+station, and not too young.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Excited and disturbed.</i>] Fiddler? Tim Fiddler?
+His coming is outrageous!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> A note for you, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Impulsively.</i>] Oh, Fiddler&mdash;is that you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Yes'm!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>In a half whisper, still speaking on impulse.</i>] How
+is she! Cynthia K? How's Planet II and the colt and Golden
+Rod? How's the whole stable? Are they well?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> No'm&mdash;we're all on the bum. [<i>Aside.</i>] Ever since
+you kicked us over!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Reproving him, though pleased.</i>] Fiddler!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> The horses is just simply gone to Egypt since you
+left, and so's the guv'nor.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Putting an end to</i> <span class="smcap">Fiddler</span>.] That will do, Fiddler.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> I'm waiting for an answer, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> What is it, Philip?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Uncomfortable.</i>] A mere matter of business. [<i>Aside
+to</i> <span class="smcap">Fiddler</span>.] The answer is, Mr. Karslake can come. The&mdash;the
+coast will be clear.      [<span class="smcap">Fiddler</span> <i>goes out.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Amazed; rising.</i>] You're not going to see him?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> But Karslake, my dear, is an old acquaintance of
+mine. He argues cases before me. I will see that you do not have
+to meet him.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>walks the length of the room in excited dejection.</i></p></div>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>comes in. He is a High-church clergyman to a highly
+fashionable congregation. His success is partly due to his social
+position and partly to his elegance of speech, but chiefly to his
+inherent amiability, which leaves the sinner in happy peace
+and smiles on the just and unjust alike.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Most amiably.</i>] Ah, my dear brother!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Greeting him.</i>] Matthew.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Nodding to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] Good afternoon, my dear
+Cynthia. How charming you look! [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>sits down at the</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_625" id="Page_625">[Pg 625]</a></span>
+<i>tea-table. To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Ah, why weren't you in your pew
+yesterday? I preached a most original sermon.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He lays his hat and cane on the divan.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] Sir, Mrs. Vida Phillimore's maid
+called you up on the telephone, and you're to expect Mrs. Phillimore
+on a matter of business.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Astonished and disgusted.</i>] Here, impossible! [<i>To</i>
+<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Excuse me, my dear!      [<span class="smcap">Philip</span>, <i>much embarrassed,
+goes out, followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Approaching</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia's</span> <i>chair, happily and
+pleasantly self-important.</i>] No, really, it was a wonderful sermon,
+my dear. My text was from Paul&mdash;"It is better to marry than to
+burn." It was a strictly logical sermon. I argued&mdash;that, as the
+grass withereth, and the flower fadeth,&mdash;there is nothing final in
+Nature; not even Death! And, as there is nothing final in
+Nature, not even Death;&mdash;so then if Death is not final&mdash;why
+should marriage be final? [<i>Gently.</i>] And so the necessity of&mdash;eh&mdash;divorce!
+You see? It was an exquisite sermon! All New York
+was there! And all New York went away happy! Even the
+sinners&mdash;if there were any! I don't often meet sinners&mdash;do you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Indulgently, in spite of his folly, because he is kind.</i>]
+You're such a dear, delightful Pagan! Here's your tea!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Taking the tea.</i>] Why, my dear&mdash;you have a very
+sad expression!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>A little bitterly.</i>] Why not?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>With sentimental sweetness.</i>] I feel as if I were of
+no use in the world when I see sadness on a young face. Only
+sinners should feel sad. You have committed no sin!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Impulsively.</i>] Yes, I have!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> Eh?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I committed the unpardonable sin&mdash;whe&mdash;when I
+married for love!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> One must not marry for anything else, my dear!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Why am I marrying your brother?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> I often wonder why? I wonder why you didn't
+choose to remain a free woman.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Going over the ground she has often argued with herself.</i>]
+I meant to; but a divorc&eacute;e has no place in society. I felt
+horridly lonely! I wanted a friend. Philip was ideal as a friend&mdash;for
+months. Isn't it nice to bind a friend to you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Setting down his teacup.</i>] Yes&mdash;yes!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_626" id="Page_626">[Pg 626]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Growing more and more excited and moved as she
+speaks.</i>] To marry a friend&mdash;to marry on prudent, sensible
+grounds&mdash;a man&mdash;like Philip? That's what I should have done
+first, instead of rushing into marriage&mdash;because I had a wild, mad,
+sensitive, sympathetic&mdash;passion and pain and fury&mdash;of, I don't
+know what&mdash;that almost strangled me with happiness!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Amiable and reminiscent.</i>] Ah&mdash;ah&mdash;in my
+youth&mdash;I,&mdash;I too!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Coming back to her manner of every day.</i>] And besides&mdash;the
+day Philip asked me I was in the dumps! And now&mdash;how
+about marrying only for love?      [<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>comes back.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> Ah, my dear, love is not the only thing in the
+world!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Half aside.</i>] I got there too late, she'd hung up.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Who, Philip?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Eh&mdash;a lady&mdash;eh&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span>, <i>flurried, comes in with a card on a salver.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> A card for you, sir. Ahem&mdash;ahem&mdash;Mrs. Phillimore&mdash;that
+was, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Eh?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> She's on the stairs, sir. [<i>He nods backward, only to
+find</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>at his side. He announces her as being the best way of
+meeting the difficulty.</i>] Mrs. Vida Phillimore!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>comes in slowly, with the air of a spoiled beauty. She stops
+just inside the door and speaks in a very casual manner. Her
+voice is languorous and caressing. She is dressed in the excess
+of the French fashion and carries a daring parasol. She smiles
+and comes in, undulating, to the middle of the room. Tableau.</i>
+<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>withdraws.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> How do you do, Philip. [<i>After a pause.</i>] Don't tell
+me I'm a surprise! I had you called up on the 'phone and I sent
+up my card&mdash;and, besides, Philip dear, when you have the&mdash;the&mdash;habit
+of the house, as unfortunately I have, you can't treat yourself
+like a stranger in a strange land. At least, I can't&mdash;so here I
+am. My reason for coming was to ask you about that B. &amp; O.
+stock we hold in common. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>, <i>condescendingly, the
+clergy being a class of unfortunates debarred by profession from the
+pleasures of the world.</i>] How do you do? [<i>Pause. She then goes
+to the real reason of her visit.</i>] Do be polite and present me to
+your wife-to-be.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_627" id="Page_627">[Pg 627]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Awkwardly.</i>] Cynthia&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Cheerfully, with dash, putting the table between</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>
+<i>and herself.</i>] We're delighted to see you, Mrs. Phillimore. I
+needn't ask you to make yourself at home, but will you have a
+cup of tea?      [<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>sits near the little table.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] My dear, she's not in the least what I
+expected. I heard she was a dove! She's a very dashing kind of
+a dove! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>who moves to the tea-table.</i>] My dear, I'm
+paying you compliments. Five lumps and quantities of cream.
+I find single life very thinning. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>, <i>calm and ready to be
+agreeable to any man.</i>] And how well you're looking! It must be
+the absence of matrimonial cares&mdash;or is it a new angel in the
+house?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Outraged at</i> <span class="smcap">Vida's</span> <i>intrusion, but polite though delicately
+sarcastic.</i>] It's most amusing to sit in your place. And
+how at home you must feel here in this house where you have
+made so much trouble&mdash;I mean tea. [<i>Rises.</i>] Do you know it
+would be in much better taste if you would take the place you're
+accustomed to?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>As calm as before.</i>] My dear, I'm an intruder only for
+a moment; I sha'n't give you a chance to score off me again!
+But I must thank you, dear Philip, for rendering that decision in
+my favour&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> I assure you&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Vida. [<i>Unable to resist a thrust.</i>] Of course, you would like to
+have rendered it against me. It was your wonderful sense of justice,
+and that's why I'm so grateful&mdash;if not to you, to your
+Maker!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Feels that this is no place for his future wife. Rises
+quickly. To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Cynthia, I would prefer that you left us.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>moves to the sofa and sits down.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Determined not to leave the field first, remains seated.</i>]
+Certainly, Philip!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> I expect another visitor who&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With flattering insistence, to</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Oh, my dear&mdash;don't
+go! The truth is&mdash;I came to see you! I feel most cordially
+towards you&mdash;and really, you know, people in our position should
+meet on cordial terms.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Taking it with apparent calm, but pointing her remarks.</i>]
+Naturally. If people in our position couldn't meet, New
+York society would soon come to an end.      [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>comes in.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_628" id="Page_628">[Pg 628]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Calm, but getting her knife in too.</i>] Precisely. Society's
+no bigger than a band-box. Why, it's only a moment ago I saw
+Mr. Karslake walking&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Ah!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>Announcing clearly. Everyone changes place, in consternation,
+amusement or surprise.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>moves to leave the
+room, but stops for fear of attracting</i> <span class="smcap">Karslake's</span> <i>attention.</i>] Mr.
+John Karslake!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Karslake</span>. <i>He is a powerful, generous personality, a man
+of affairs, breezy, gay and careless. He gives the impression of
+being game for any fate in store for him. His clothes indicate
+sporting propensities and his taste in waistcoats and ties is
+brilliant.</i> <span class="smcap">Karslake</span> <i>sees first</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>and then</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>.
+<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>goes out.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> How do you do?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Very gay and no respecter of persons.</i>] Good-afternoon,
+Mr. Phillimore. Hello&mdash;here's the church! [<i>Crossing to</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>
+<i>and shaking hands. He slaps him on the back.</i>] I hadn't the
+least idea&mdash;how are you? By George, your reverence, that was a
+racy sermon of yours on Divorce! What was your text? [<i>Sees</i>
+<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>and bows, very politely.</i>] Galatians 4:2, "The more the
+merrier," or "Who next?" [<i>Smiles.</i>] As the whale said after
+Jonah! [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>makes a sudden movement, upsetting her tea-cup.</i>
+<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>faces about quickly and they face each other.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>gives a
+frank start. A pause holds them.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Astounded, in a low voice.</i>] Mrs. Karslake&mdash; [<i>Bowing.</i>]
+I was not aware of the pleasure in store for me. I understood
+you were in the country. [<i>Recovering and moving to her chair.</i>]
+Perhaps you'll be good enough to make me a cup of tea?&mdash;that is
+if the teapot wasn't lost in the scrimmage. [<i>There is another
+pause.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>determined to equal him in coolness, returns to
+the tea-tray.</i>] Mr. Phillimore, I came to get your signature in
+that matter of Cox <i>vs.</i> Keely.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> I shall be at your service, but pray be seated.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He indicates a chair by the tea-table.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Sitting beyond but not far from the tea-table.</i>] And I also
+understood you to say you wanted a saddle-horse.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> You have a mare called&mdash;eh&mdash;"Cynthia K?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Promptly.</i>] Yes&mdash;she's not for sale.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Oh, but she's just the mare I had set my mind on.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_629" id="Page_629">[Pg 629]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>With a touch of humour.</i>] You want her for
+yourself?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>A little flustered.</i>] I&mdash;eh&mdash;I sometimes ride.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Now sure of himself.</i>] She's rather lively for you,
+Judge. Mrs. Karslake used to ride her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> You don't care to sell her to me?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> She's a dangerous mare, Judge, and she's as delicate
+and changeable as a girl. I'd hate to leave her in your
+charge!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Eagerly but in a low voice.</i>] Leave her in mine, Mr.
+Karslake!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>After a slight pause.</i>] Mrs. Karslake knows all about
+a horse, but&mdash; [<i>Turning to</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Cynthia K's got rather
+tricky of late.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Haughtily.</i>] You mean to say you think she'd
+chuck me?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>With polite solicitude and still humourous. To</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.]
+I'd hate to have a mare of mine deprive you of a wife, Judge.
+[<i>Rises.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>shows anger.</i>] She goes to Saratoga next
+week, C. W.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Who has been sitting and talking to</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>for lack
+of a better man, comes to talk to</i> <span class="smcap">Karslake</span>.] C. W.?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Rising as she rises.</i>] Creditors willing.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Changing her seat for one near the tea-table.</i>] I'm sure
+your creditors are willing.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh, they're a breezy lot, my creditors. They're giving
+me a dinner this evening.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>More than usually anxious to please.</i>] I regret I'm not
+a breezy creditor, but I do think you owe it to me to let me see
+your Cynthia K! Can't you lead her around to my house?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> At what hour, Mrs. Phillimore?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Say eleven? And you, too, might have a leading in my
+direction&mdash;771 Fifth Avenue.</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>bows.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>hears and notes this.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Your cup of tea, Mr. Karslake.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Thanks. [<i>Taking his tea and sipping it.</i>] I beg your
+pardon&mdash;you have forgotten, Mrs. Karslake&mdash;very naturally, it
+has slipped your memory, but I don't take sugar. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>,
+<i>furious with him and herself. He hands the cup back. She makes
+a second cup.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Cheerfully; in a rage.</i>] Sorry!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_630" id="Page_630">[Pg 630]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Also apparently cheerful.</i>] Yes, gout. It gives me a
+twinge even to sit in the shadow of a sugar-maple! First you riot,
+and then you diet!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Calm and amused; aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>.] My dear
+Matthew, he's a darling! But I feel as if we were all taking tea
+on the slope of a volcano!      [<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>sits down.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> It occurred to me, Mr. Karslake, you might be glad to
+find a purchaser for your portrait by Sargent?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> It's not <i>my</i> portrait. It's a portrait of Mrs. Karslake,
+and to tell you the truth&mdash;Sargent's a good fellow&mdash;I've made up
+my mind to keep it&mdash;to remember the artist by.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>is wounded by this.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> H'm!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>hands a second cup to</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With careful politeness.</i>] Your cup of tea, Mr.
+Karslake.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Rising and taking the tea with courteous indifference.</i>]
+Thanks&mdash;sorry to trouble you.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He drinks the cup of tea standing by the tea-table.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>To make conversation.</i>] You're selling your country
+place?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> If I was long of hair&mdash;I'd sell that.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Excited. Taken out of herself by the news.</i>] You're
+not really selling your stable?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Finishes his tea, places the empty cup on the tea-table,
+and reseats himself.</i>] Every gelding I've got&mdash;seven foals and a
+donkey! I don't mean the owner.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Still interested and forgetting the discomfort of the
+situation.</i>] How did you ever manage to come such a cropper?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Streak of blue luck!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Quickly.</i>] I don't see how it's possible&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> You would if you'd been there. You remember the
+head man? [<i>Sitting down.</i>] Bloke?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Of course!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, his wife divorced him for beating her over the
+head with a bottle of Fowler's Solution, and it seemed to prey on
+his mind. He sold me&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Horrified.</i>] Sold a race?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> About ten races, I guess.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Incredulous.</i>] Just because he'd beaten his wife?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> No. Because she divorced him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_631" id="Page_631">[Pg 631]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Well, I can't see why that should prey on his mind!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>Suddenly remembers.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, I have known men that it stroked the wrong
+way. But he cost me eighty thousand. And then Urbanity ran
+third in the thousand-dollar stakes for two-year-olds at Belmont.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Throws this remark in.</i>] I never had faith in that
+horse.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> And, of course, it never rains monkeys but it pours
+gorillas! So when I was down at St. Louis on the fifth, I laid
+seven to three on Fraternity&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Crazy! Crazy!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Ready to take the opposite view.</i>] I don't see it. With
+her record she ought to have romped it an easy winner.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Her sporting instinct asserting itself.</i>] She hasn't
+the stamina! Look at her barrel!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, anyhow, Geranium finished me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You didn't lay odds on Geranium!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Why not? She's my own mare&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Streak o' bad luck&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Plainly anxious to say "I told you so."</i>] Streak of
+poor judgment! Do you remember the day you rode Billy at a
+six-foot stone wall, and he stopped and you didn't, and there was
+a hornet's nest [<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>rises.</i>] on the other side, and I remember
+you were hot just because I said you showed poor judgment?
+[<i>She laughs at the memory. A general movement of disapproval.
+She remembers the situation.</i>] I beg your pardon.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Rises to meet</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>. <i>Hastily.</i>] It seems to me
+that horses are like the fourth gospel. Any conversation about
+them becomes animated almost beyond the limits of the urbane!
+[<span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>disgusted by such plainness of speech, rises and goes to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>
+<i>who waves her to a chair.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Formally.</i>] I regret that you have endured such
+reverses, Mr. Karslake.      [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>quietly bows.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Concealing her interest and speaking casually.</i>] You
+haven't mentioned your new English horse&mdash;Pantomime. What
+did he do at St. Louis?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Sitting down.</i>] Fell away and ran fifth.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Too bad. Was he fully acclimated? Ah, well&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> We always differed&mdash;you remember&mdash;on the time
+needed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_632" id="Page_632">[Pg 632]</a></span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Coming over to</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>and speaking to carry off
+the situation as well as to get a tip.</i>] Isn't there a&mdash;eh&mdash;a race to-morrow
+at Belmont Park?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Yes. I'm going down in my auto.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Evidently wishing she might be going too.</i>] Oh!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> And what animal shall you prefer?</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>Covering his personal interest with amiable altruism.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> I'm backing Carmencita.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With a gesture of despair.</i>] Carmencita! Carmencita!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>returns to</i> <span class="smcap">Vida's</span> <i>side.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> You may remember we always differed on Carmencita.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Disgusted at</i> <span class="smcap">John's</span> <i>dunderheadedness.</i>] But there's
+no room for difference. She's a wild, headstrong, dissatisfied,
+foolish little filly. The deuce couldn't ride her&mdash;she'd shy at her
+own shadow&mdash;"Carmencita." Oh, very well then, I'll wager
+you&mdash;and I'll give you odds too&mdash;"Decorum" will come in first,
+and I'll lay three to one he'll beat Carmencita by five lengths!
+How's that for fair?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Never forgetting the situation.</i>] Sorry I'm not flush
+enough to take you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Impetuously.</i>] Philip, dear, you lend John enough
+for the wager.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>As nearly horrified as so soft a soul can be.</i>] Ahem!
+Really&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> It's a sporty idea, Mrs. Karslake, but perhaps in the
+circumstances&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Her mind on her wager.</i>] In what circumstances?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>With a nervous laugh.</i>] It does seem to me there is a
+certain impropriety&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Remembering the conventions, which, for a moment,
+had actually escaped her.</i>] Oh, I forgot. When horses are in the
+air&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Pouring oil on troubled waters. Moving, he speaks
+to</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>from the back of her armchair.</i>] It's the fourth gospel, you
+see. [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>comes in with a letter on a salver, which he hands to</i>
+<span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Meekly.</i>] You are quite right, Philip. [<span class="smcap">Philip</span>
+<i>goes up.</i>] The fact is, seeing Mr. Karslake again [<i>Laying on her
+indifference with a trowel.</i>] he seems to me as much a stranger as
+if I were meeting him for the first time.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_633" id="Page_633">[Pg 633]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] We are indeed taking tea on the
+slope of a volcano.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>About to go, but thinking she will have a last word with</i>
+<span class="smcap">John</span>.] I'm sorry your fortunes are so depressed, Mr. Karslake.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Looking at the card that</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>has just brought in.</i>]
+Who in the world is Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby?</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>There is a general stir.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh&mdash;eh&mdash;Cates-Darby? [<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>opens the letter which</i>
+<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>has brought with the card.</i>] That's the English chap I
+bought Pantomime of.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>.] Show Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby in.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>goes out. The prospect of an Englishman with a handle
+to his name changes</i> <span class="smcap">Vida's</span> <i>plans and, instead of leaving the
+house, she goes to sofa, and poses there.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> He's a good fellow, Judge. Place near Epsom. Breeder.
+Over here to take a shy at our races.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>Opening the door and announcing.</i>] Sir Wilfrid
+Cates-Darby.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby</span>. <i>He is a high-bred, sporting
+Englishman. His manner, his dress and his diction are the perfection
+of English elegance. His movements are quick and graceful.
+He talks lightly and with ease. He is full of life and unsmiling
+good temper.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>and referring to the letter of introduction
+in his hand.</i>] I am Mr. Phillimore. I am grateful to Stanhope
+for giving me the opportunity of knowing you, Sir Wilfrid.
+I fear you find it warm?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Delicately mopping his forehead.</i>] Ah, well&mdash;ah&mdash;warm,
+no&mdash;hot, yes! Deuced extraordinary climate yours,
+you know, Mr. Phillimore.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Conventionally.</i>] Permit me to present you to&mdash; [<i>The
+unconventional situation pulls him up short. It takes him a
+moment to decide how to meet it. He makes up his mind to pretend
+that everything is as usual, and presents</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>first.</i>] Mrs.
+Karslake.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>bows, surprised and doubtful.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> How do you do?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> And to Mrs. Phillimore. [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>bows nonchalantly,
+but with a view to catching</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid's</span> <i>attention.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_634" id="Page_634">[Pg 634]</a></span></span>
+<i>bows, and looks from her to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] My brother&mdash;and Mr.
+Karslake you know.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> How do, my boy. [<i>Half aside, to</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] No
+idea you had such a charming little wife&mdash;What?&mdash;Eh?
+[<span class="smcap">Karslake</span> <i>moves to speak to</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>in the further
+room.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You'll have a cup of tea, Sir Wilfrid?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>At the table.</i>] Thanks, awfully. [<i>Very cheerfully.</i>]
+I'd no idea old John had a wife! The rascal never told
+me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Pouring tea and facing the facts.</i>] I'm not Mr.
+Karslake's wife!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh!&mdash;Eh?&mdash;I see&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He is evidently trying to think this out.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Who has been ready for some time to speak to him.</i>] Sir
+Wilfrid, I'm sure no one has asked you how you like our
+country?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Going to</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>and standing by her at the sofa.</i>]
+Oh, well, as to climate and horses, I say nothing. But I like your
+American humour. I'm acquiring it for home purposes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Getting down to love as the basis of conversation.</i>] Aren't
+you going to acquire an American girl for home purposes?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> The more narrowly I look the agreeable project
+in the face, the more I like it. Oughtn't to say that in the presence
+of your husband. [<i>He casts a look at</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>, <i>who has gone into
+the next room.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Cheerful and unconstrained.</i>] He's not my husband!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Completely confused.</i>] Oh&mdash;eh?&mdash;my brain
+must be boiled. You are&mdash;Mrs.&mdash;eh&mdash;ah&mdash;of course, now I see!
+I got the wrong names! I thought you were Mrs. Phillimore.
+[<i>Sitting down by her.</i>] And that nice girl, Mrs. Karslake! You're
+deucedly lucky to be Mrs. Karslake. John's a prime sort. I say,
+have you and he got any kids? How many?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Horrified at being suspected of maternity, but speaking
+very sweetly.</i>] He's not my husband.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>His good spirits all gone, but determined to clear
+things up.</i>] Phew! Awfully hot in here! Who the deuce is
+John's wife?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> He hasn't any.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Who's Phillimore's wife?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> He hasn't any.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_635" id="Page_635">[Pg 635]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Thanks, fearfully! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>, <i>whom he
+approaches; suspecting himself of having lost his wits.</i>] Would you
+excuse me, my dear and Reverend Sir&mdash;you're a churchman and
+all that&mdash;would you mind straightening me out?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Most graciously.</i>] Certainly, Sir Wilfrid. Is it a
+matter of doctrine?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, damme&mdash;beg your pardon,&mdash;no, it's not
+words, it's women.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Ready to be outraged.</i>] Women!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> It's divorce. Now, the lady on the
+sofa&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> <i>Was</i> my brother's wife; he divorced her&mdash;incompatibility&mdash;Rhode
+Island. The lady at the tea-table <i>was</i> Mr.
+Karslake's wife; she divorced him&mdash;desertion&mdash;Sioux Falls.
+One moment&mdash;she is about to marry my brother.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Cheerful again.</i>] I'm out! Thought I never
+would be! Thanks!      [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>laughs.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Not a whit discountenanced and ready to please.</i>] Have
+you got me straightened out yet?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Straight as a die! I say, you had lots of fun,
+didn't you? [<i>Returning to his position by the sofa.</i>] And so <i>she's</i>
+Mrs. John Karslake?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Calm, but secretly disappointed.</i>] Do you like her?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> My word!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Fully expecting personal flattery.</i>] Eh?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> She's a box o' ginger!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> You haven't seen many American women!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, haven't I?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> If you'll pay me a visit to-morrow&mdash;at twelve, you shall
+meet a most charming young woman, who has seen you once, and
+who admires you&mdash;ah!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> I'm there&mdash;what!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Seven hundred and seventy-one Fifth Avenue.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Seven seventy-one Fifth Avenue&mdash;at twelve.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> At twelve.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Thanks! [<i>Indicating</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] She's a
+thoroughbred&mdash;you can see that with one eye shut. Twelve.
+[<i>Shaking hands.</i>] Awfully good of you to ask me. [<i>He joins</i>
+<span class="smcap">John</span>.] I say, my boy, your former's an absolute certainty.
+[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] I hear you're about to marry Mr. Phillimore,
+Mrs. Karslake?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_636" id="Page_636">[Pg 636]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Karslake</span> <i>crosses to</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>and together they move to the sofa and
+sit down.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> To-morrow, 3 <span class="smcap">P. M.</span>, Sir Wilfrid.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Much taken with</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Afraid I've run
+into a sort of family party, eh? [<i>Indicating</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] The Past and
+the Future&mdash;awfully chic way you Americans have of asking your
+divorced husbands and wives to drop in, you know&mdash;celebrate a
+christenin', or the new bride, or&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Do you like your tea strong?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Middlin'.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Sugar?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> One!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Lemon?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Just torture a lemon over it. [<i>He makes a gesture
+as of twisting a lemon peel. She hands him his tea.</i>] Thanks!
+So you do it to-morrow at three?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> At three, Sir Wilfrid.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Sorry!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Why are you sorry?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Hate to see a pretty woman married. Might
+marry her myself.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh, but I'm sure you don't admire American
+women.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Admire you, Mrs. Karslake&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Not enough to marry me, I hope.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Marry you in a minute! Say the word. Marry
+you now&mdash;here.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You don't think you ought to know me a little
+before&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Know you? Do know you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Covering her hair with her handkerchief.</i>] What
+colour is my hair?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Pshaw!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You see! You don't know whether I'm a chestnut
+or a strawberry roan! In the States we think a few months of
+friendship is quite necessary.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Few months of moonshine! Never was a friend
+to a woman&mdash;thank God, in all my life.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh&mdash;oh, oh!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Might as well talk about being a friend to a
+whiskey-and-soda.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_637" id="Page_637">[Pg 637]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> A woman has a soul, Sir Wilfrid.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Well, good whiskey is spirits&mdash;dozens o'
+souls!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You are so gross!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Changing his seat for one at the tea-table.</i>] Gross?
+Not a bit! Friendship between the sexes is all fudge! I'm no
+friend to a rose in my garden. I don't call it friendship&mdash;eh&mdash;eh&mdash;a
+warm, starry night, moonbeams and ilex trees, "and a spirit
+who knows how" and all that&mdash;eh&mdash; [<i>Getting closer to her.</i>]
+You make me feel awfully poetical, you know&mdash; [<span class="smcap">Philip</span>
+<i>comes toward them, glances nervously at</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>,
+<i>and walks away again.</i>] What's the matter? But, I say&mdash;poetry
+aside&mdash;do you, eh&mdash;&mdash; [<i>Looking around to place</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] Does
+he&mdash;y'know&mdash;is he&mdash;does he go to the head?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Sir Wilfrid, Mr. Phillimore is my sober second
+choice.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Did you ever kiss him? I'll bet he fined you for
+contempt of court. Look here, Mrs. Karslake, if you're marryin'
+a man you don't care about&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Amused and excusing his audacity as a foreigner's
+eccentricity.</i>] Really!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Well, I don't offer myself&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Not this instant&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Ah!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> But let me drop in to-morrow at ten.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> What country and state of affairs do you think you
+have landed in?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> New York, by Jove! Been to school, too. New
+York is bounded on the North, South, East and West by the
+state of Divorce! Come, come, Mrs. Karslake, I like your
+country. You've no fear and no respect&mdash;no cant and lots of can.
+Here you all are, you see&mdash;your former husband, and your new
+husband's former wife&mdash;sounds like Ollendoff! Eh? So there
+you are, you see! But, jokin' apart&mdash;why do you marry him?
+Oh, well, marry him if you must! You can run around the corner
+and get a divorce afterwards&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I believe you think they throw one in with an ice-cream
+soda!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Rising.</i>] Damme, my dear lady, a marriage in
+your country is no more than a&mdash;eh&mdash;eh&mdash;what do you call 'em?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_638" id="Page_638">[Pg 638]</a></span>
+A thank you, ma'am. That's what an American marriage is&mdash;a
+thank you, ma'am. Bump&mdash;bump&mdash;you're over it and on to the
+next.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You're an odd fish! What? I believe I like you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> 'Course you do! You'll see me when I call to-morrow&mdash;at
+ten? We'll run down to Belmont Park, eh?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Don't be absurd!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Has finished her talk with</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>and breaks in on</i> <span class="smcap">Sir
+Wilfrid</span>, <i>who has hung about</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>too long to suit her.</i>] To-morrow
+at twelve, Sir Wilfrid!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Twelve!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Shaking hands with</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] Don't forget, Mr. Karslake&mdash;eleven
+o'clock to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Bowing assent.</i>] I won't!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Coming over to</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Oh, Mrs. Karslake, I've
+ordered Tiffany to send you something. It's a sugar-bowl to
+sweeten the matrimonial lot! I suppose nothing would induce
+you to call?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Distantly and careless of offending.</i>] Thanks, no&mdash;that
+is, is "Cynthia K" really to be there at eleven? I'd give a
+gold mine to see her again.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Do come!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> If Mr. Karslake will accommodate me by his
+absence.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Dear Mr. Karslake, you'll have to change your
+hour.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Sorry, I'm not able to.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I can't come later for I'm to be married.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> It's not as bad as that with me, but I am to be sold up&mdash;Sheriff,
+you know. Can't come later than eleven.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Any hour but eleven, dear.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Perfectly regardless of</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>and ready to vex</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>
+<i>if possible.</i>] Mrs. Phillimore, I shall call on you at eleven&mdash;to
+see Cynthia K. I thank you for the invitation. Good-afternoon.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>crossing to speak quietly to him.</i>] It's
+mere bravado; she won't come.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> You don't know her.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>There is a pause and general embarrassment.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>uses
+his eye-glass.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>angry.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>triumphant.</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>
+<i>embarrassed.</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>irritated.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>puzzled. Everybody is at
+odds.</i></p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_639" id="Page_639">[Pg 639]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>For the first time a witness to the pretty complications
+of divorce. To</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>.] Do you have it as warm as this
+ordinarily?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>For whom these moments are more than usually
+painful, and wiping his brow.</i>] It's not so much the heat as the
+humidity.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Looks at watch and, relieved, glad to be off.</i>] I shall be
+late for my creditors' dinner.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Interested and walking toward</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] Creditors'
+dinner.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Reading the note.</i>] Fifteen of my sporting creditors
+have arranged to give me a blow-out at Sherry's, and I'm
+expected right away or sooner. And, by the way, I was to bring
+my friends&mdash;if I had any. So now's the time to stand by me!
+Mrs. Phillimore?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Of course!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Ready to embarrass</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>if possible, and speaking
+as if he had quite forgotten their former relations.</i>] Mrs. Karslake&mdash;I
+beg your pardon. Judge? [<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>declines.</i>] No? Sir Wilfrid?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> I'm with you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>.] Your Grace?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> I regret&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Is it the custom for creditors&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Come on, Sir Wilfrid! [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>opens door.</i>] Good-night,
+Judge&mdash;Your Grace&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Is it the custom&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Hang the custom! Come on&mdash;I'll show you a gang of
+creditors worth having!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>go out, arm in arm, preceded by</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.
+<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>crosses the room, smiling, as if pleased, in a Christian
+way, with this display of generous gaiety. He stops short suddenly
+and looks at his watch.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> Good gracious! I had no idea the hour was so
+late. I've been asked to a meeting with Maryland and Iowa, to
+talk over the divorce situation. [<i>He leaves the room quickly and
+his voice is heard in the hall.</i>] Good-afternoon! Good-afternoon!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>is evidently much excited. The outer door slams.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>
+<i>comes down slowly.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>stands, her eyes wide, her
+breathing visible, until</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>speaks, when she seems suddenly
+to realize her position. There is a long pause.</i></p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_640" id="Page_640">[Pg 640]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>With a superior air.</i>] I have seldom witnessed a more
+amazing cataclysm of jocundity! Of course, my dear, this has
+all been most disagreeable for you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Excitedly.</i>] Yes, yes, yes!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> I saw how much it shocked your delicacy.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Distressed and moved.</i>] Outrageous.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>sits down.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Do be seated, Cynthia. [<i>Taking up the paper.
+Quietly.</i>] Very odd sort of an Englishman&mdash;that Cates-Darby!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Sir Wilfrid?&mdash;Oh, yes! [<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>settles down to the
+paper. To herself.</i>] Outrageous! I've a great mind to go at
+eleven&mdash;just as I said I would!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Do sit down, Cynthia!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> What? What?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> You make me so nervous&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Sorry&mdash;sorry. [<i>She sits down and, seeing the paper,
+takes it, looking at the picture of</i> <span class="smcap">John Karslake</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Sighing with content.</i>] Ah! now that I see him, I don't
+wonder you couldn't stand him. There's a kind of&mdash;ah&mdash;spontaneous
+inebriety about him. He is incomprehensible! If I
+might with reverence cross-question the Creator, I would say to
+him: "Sir, to what end or purpose did you create Mr. John
+Karslake?" I believe I should obtain no adequate answer! However,
+[<i>Sighs.</i>] at last we have peace&mdash;and <i>The Post</i>! [<span class="smcap">Philip</span>,
+<i>settling himself, reads his paper;</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>glancing at her paper,
+occasionally looks across at</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] Forget the dust of the arena&mdash;the
+prolixity of counsel&mdash;the involuntary fatuity of things in
+general. [<i>After a pause, he goes on with his reading.</i>] Compose
+yourself!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>, <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>come in.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>
+<i>sighs without letting her sigh be heard. She tries to compose
+herself. She glances at the paper and then, hearing</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>,
+<i>starts slightly.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>
+<i>stop at the table.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Carrying a sheet of paper.</i>] There, my dear
+Mary, is the announcement as I have now reworded it. I took
+William's suggestion. [<span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>takes and casually
+reads it.</i>] I also put the case to him, and he was of the opinion
+that the announcement should be sent <i>only</i> to those people who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_641" id="Page_641">[Pg 641]</a></span>
+are really <i>in</i> society. [<i>She sits near the table.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>braces herself
+to bear the</i> <span class="smcap">Phillimore</span> <i>conversation.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> I wish you'd make an exception of the Dudleys.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>rises and moves to the chair by the table.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> And, of course, that excludes the Oppenheims&mdash;the
+Vance-Browns.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> It's just as well to be exclusive.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> I do wish you'd make an exception of Lena
+Dudley.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> We might, of course, include those new
+Girardos, and possibly&mdash;possibly the Paddingtons.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> I do wish you would take in Lena Dudley.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>They are now sitting.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> The mother Dudley is as common as a
+charwoman, and not nearly as clean.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Sighing, his own feelings, as usual, to the fore.</i>] Ah!
+I certainly am fatigued!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>begins to slowly crush the newspaper she has been reading
+with both hands, as if the effort of self-repression were too much
+for her.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Making the best of a gloomy future.</i>] We shall
+have to ask the Dudleys sooner or later to dine, Mary&mdash;because
+of the elder girl's marriage to that dissolute French Marquis.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>Plaintively.</i>] I don't like common people
+any more than I like common cats, and of course in my time&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> I think I shall include the Dudleys.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> You think you'll include the Dudleys?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Yes, I think I will include the Dudleys!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Here</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia's</span> <i>control breaks down. Driven desperate by their
+chatter, she has slowly rolled her newspaper into a ball, and at
+this point tosses it violently to the floor and bursts into hysterical
+laughter.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> Why, my dear Cynthia&mdash;Compose yourself.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Hastily.</i>] What is the matter, Cynthia?</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>They speak together.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Why, Mrs. Karslake, what is the matter?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>Coming quickly forward.</i>] Mrs. Karslake!</p>
+
+
+<p class="center">
+<span class="smcap">Curtain.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_642" id="Page_642">[Pg 642]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="ACT_II" id="ACT_II"></a>ACT II.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Scene.</span> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Vida Phillimore's</span> <i>boudoir. The room is furnished
+to please an empty-headed, pleasure-loving and fashionable
+woman. The furniture, the ornaments, what pictures there are,
+all witness to taste up-to-date. Two French windows open on to a
+balcony, from which the trees of Central Park can be seen. There
+is a table between them; a mirror, a scent bottle, &amp;c., upon it. On
+the right, up stage, is a door; on the right, down stage, another
+door. A lady's writing-table stands between the two, nearer centre
+of stage. There is another door up stage; below it, an open fireplace,
+filled with potted plants, andirons, &amp;c., not in use. Over it
+is a tall mirror; on the mantel-piece are a French clock, candelabra,
+vases, &amp;c. On a line with the fireplace is a lounge, gay with silk
+pillows. A florist's box, large and long, filled with American
+Beauty roses, rests on a low table near the head of the lounge.
+Small tables and light chairs where needed.</i></p></div>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Benson</span>, <i>alone in the room, is looking critically about her. She is
+a neat and pretty little English lady's maid in black silk and a
+thin apron. Still surveying the room, she moves here and there,
+and, her eyes lighting on the box of flowers, she goes to the door of</i>
+<span class="smcap">Vida's</span> <i>room and speaks to her.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> Yes, ma'am, the flowers have come.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>She holds open the door through which</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>in a morning gown,
+comes in slowly. She is smoking a cigarette in as &aelig;sthetic a
+manner as she can, and is evidently turned out in her best style
+for conquest.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Faces the balcony as she speaks, and is, as always,
+even and civil, but a bit disdainful toward her servant.</i>] Terribly
+garish light, Benson. Pull down the&mdash; [<span class="smcap">Benson</span>, <i>obeying, partly
+pulls down the shade.</i>] Lower still&mdash;that will do. [<i>As she speaks
+she goes about the room, giving the tables a push here and the chairs a
+jerk there, and generally arranging the vases and ornaments.</i>] Men
+hate a clutter of chairs and tables. [<i>Stopping and taking up a
+hand mirror from the table, she faces the windows.</i>] I really think
+I'm too pale for this light.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> [<i>Quickly, understanding what is implied.</i>] Yes,
+ma'am. [<span class="smcap">Benson</span> <i>goes out for the rouge, and</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>seats herself at
+the table. There is a knock at the door.</i>] Come! [<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>comes
+in.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_643" id="Page_643">[Pg 643]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> [<i>An ultra-English footman, in plush and calves.</i>] Any
+horders, m'lady?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Incapable of remembering the last man, or of considering
+the new one.</i>] Oh,&mdash;of course! You're the new&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> Footman, m'lady.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>As a matter of form.</i>] Your name?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> Brooks, m'lady. [<span class="smcap">Benson</span> <i>returns with the
+rouge.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Carefully giving instructions while she keeps her eyes on
+the glass and is rouged by</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>.] Brooks, I am at home to Mr.
+Karslake at eleven; not to any one else till twelve, when I expect
+Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Brooks</span>, <i>watching</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>, <i>is inattentive.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> Yes, m'lady.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Calm, but wearied by the ignorance of the lower classes.</i>]
+And I regret to inform you, Brooks, that in America there are no
+ladies, except salesladies!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> [<i>Without a trace of comprehension.</i>] Yes, m'lady.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> I am at home to no one but the two names I have mentioned.
+[<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>bows and exits. She dabs on rouge while</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>
+<i>holds glass.</i>] Is the men's club-room in order?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> Perfectly, ma'am.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Whiskey and soda?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> Yes, ma'am, and the ticker's been mended. The
+British sporting papers arrived this morning.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Looking at her watch which lies on the dressing-table.</i>]
+My watch has stopped.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> [<i>Glancing at the French clock on the chimney-piece.</i>]
+Five to eleven, ma'am.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Getting promptly to work.</i>] H'm, h'm, I shall be caught.
+[<i>Rising.</i>] The box of roses, Benson! [<span class="smcap">Benson</span> <i>brings the box of
+roses, uncovers the flowers and places them at</i> <span class="smcap">Vida's</span> <i>side.</i>] My
+gloves&mdash;the clippers, and the vase! [<i>Each of these things</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>
+<i>places in turn within</i> <span class="smcap">Vida's</span> <i>range where she sits on the sofa. She
+has the long box of roses at her side on a small table, a vase of water
+on the floor by her side. She cuts the stems and places the roses in the
+vase. When she feels that she has reached a picturesque position, in
+which any onlooker would see in her a creature filled with the love of
+flowers and of her fellow man, she says:</i>] There! [<i>The door opens
+and</i> <span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>comes in;</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>nods to</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> [<i>Announcing stolidly.</i>] Sir John Karslake.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_644" id="Page_644">[Pg 644]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>dressed in very nobby riding togs, comes in gaily and forcibly.</i>
+<span class="smcap">Benson</span> <i>withdraws as he enters, and is followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Brooks</span>.
+<span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>from this moment on, is busied with her roses.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Languorously, but with a faint suggestion of humour.</i>]
+Is that really you, Sir John?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Lively and far from being impressed by</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] I see now
+where we Americans are going to get our titles. Good-morning!
+You look as fresh as paint. [<i>He lays his gloves and riding crop on
+the table, and takes a chair.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Facing the insinuation with gentle pain.</i>] I hope you
+don't mean that? I never flattered myself for a moment you'd
+come. You're riding Cynthia K?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Fiddler's going to lead her round here in ten minutes!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Cigars and cigarettes! Scotch?</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>Indicating a small table.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Scotch! [<i>Goes up quickly to table and helps himself to
+Scotch and seltzer.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> And now <i>do</i> tell me all about <i>her</i>! [<i>Putting in her last
+roses; she keeps one rosebud in her hand, of a size suitable for a
+man's buttonhole.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>As he drinks.</i>] Oh, she's an adorable creature&mdash;delicate,
+high-bred, sweet-tempered&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Showing her claws for a moment.</i>] Sweet-tempered?
+Oh, you're describing the horse! By "her," I meant&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Irritated by the remembrance of his wife.</i>] Cynthia
+Karslake? I'd rather talk about the last Tornado.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He drops moodily into a chair.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With artful soothing.</i>] There is only one thing I want
+to talk about, and that is, <i>you</i>! Why were you unhappy?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Still cross.</i>] Why does a dollar last such a short
+time?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Curious.</i>] Why did you part?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Did you ever see a schooner towed by a tug? Well, I
+parted from Cynthia for the same reason that the hawser parts
+from the tug&mdash;I couldn't stand the tug.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Sympathizing.</i>] Ah!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>After a pause, and still cross.</i>] Awful cheerful morning
+chat.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Excusing her curiosity and coming back to love as the
+only subject for serious conversation.</i>] I must hear the story, for
+I'm anxious to know why I've taken such a fancy to you!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_645" id="Page_645">[Pg 645]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Very nonchalantly.</i>] Why do <i>I</i> like you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Doing her best to charm.</i>] I won't tell you&mdash;it would
+flatter you too much.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Not a bit impressed by</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>but humanly ready to
+flirt.</i>] Tell me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> There's a rose for you.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>Giving him the one she has in her hand.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Saying what is plainly expected of him.</i>] I want more
+than a rose&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Passing over this insinuation.</i>] You refuse to tell
+me&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Once more reminded of</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>speaks with sudden
+feeling.</i>] There's nothing to tell. We met, we loved, we married,
+we parted; or at least we wrangled and jangled. [<i>Sighs.</i>] Ha!
+Why weren't we happy? Don't ask me, why! It may have been
+<i>partly</i> my fault!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With tenderness.</i>] Never!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>His mind on</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] But I believe it's all in the
+way a girl's brought up. Our girls are brought up to be ignorant
+of life&mdash;they're ignorant of life. Life is a joke, and marriage is a
+picnic, and a man is a shawl-strap&mdash; 'Pon my soul, Cynthia
+Deane&mdash;no, I can't tell you! [<i>In great irritation, he rises abruptly,
+and strides up and down the room.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Gently.</i>] Please tell me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, she was an heiress, an American heiress&mdash;and
+she'd been taught to think marriage meant burnt almonds and
+moonshine and a yacht and three automobiles, and she thought&mdash;I
+don't know what she thought, but I tell you, Mrs. Phillimore,
+marriage is three parts love and seven parts forgiveness of sins.
+[<i>He continues restlessly to pace the floor as he speaks of</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Flattering him as a matter of second nature.</i>] She never
+loved you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>On whom she has made no impression at all.</i>] Yes, she
+did. For six or seven months there was not a shadow between us.
+It was perfect, and then one day she went off like a pistol-shot!
+I had a piece of law work and couldn't take her to see Flashlight
+race the Maryland mare. The case meant a big fee, big Kudos,
+and in sails Cynthia, Flashlight-mad! And will I put on my hat
+and take her? No&mdash;and bang she goes off like a stick o' dynamite&mdash;what
+did I marry her for?&mdash;and words&mdash;pretty high words,
+until she got mad, when she threw over a chair, and said, oh, well,&mdash;marriage<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_646" id="Page_646">[Pg 646]</a></span>
+was a failure, or it was with me, so I said she'd better try
+somebody else. She said she would, and marched out of the room.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Gently sarcastic.</i>] But she came back!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> She came back, but not as you mean. She stood at the
+door and said, "Jack, I shall divorce you." Then she came over
+to my study-table, dropped her wedding ring on my law papers,
+and went out. The door shut, I laughed; the front door slammed,
+I damned. [<i>After a silence, moving abruptly to the window.</i>] She
+never came back. [<i>He turns away and then, recovering, moves
+toward</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>who catches his hands.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Hoping for a contradiction.</i>] She's broken your heart.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Taking a chair by the lounge.</i>] Oh, no!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Encouraged, begins to play the game again.</i>] You'll
+never love again!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Speaking to her from the foot of the sofa.</i>] Try me! Try
+me! Ah, no, Mrs. Phillimore, I shall laugh, live, love and make
+money again! And let me tell you one thing&mdash;I'm going to rap
+her one over the knuckles. She had a stick of a Connecticut
+lawyer, and he&mdash;well, to cut a legal story short, since Mrs. Karslake's
+been in Europe, I have been quietly testing the validity of
+the decree of divorce. Perhaps you don't understand?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Displaying her innate shrewdness.</i>] Oh, about a divorce,
+everything!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> I shall hear by this evening whether the divorce will
+stand or not.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> But it's to-day at three she marries&mdash;you won't let her
+commit bigamy?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Shaking his head.</i>] I don't suppose I'd go as far as
+that. It may be the divorce will hold, but anyway I hope never
+to see her again.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He sits down beside her so that their faces are now directly opposite.
+Taking advantage of the close range, her eyes, without loss of time,
+open a direct fire.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Ah, my poor boy, she has broken your heart. [<i>Believing
+that this is her psychological moment, she lays her hand on his arm,
+but draws it back as soon as he attempts to take it.</i>] Now don't make
+love to me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Bold and amused, but never taken in.</i>] Why not?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With immense gentleness.</i>] Because I like you too
+much! [<i>More gaily.</i>] I might give in, and take a notion to like
+you still more!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_647" id="Page_647">[Pg 647]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Please do!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With gush, and determined to be womanly at all hazards.</i>]
+Jack, I believe you'd be a lovely lover!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Immensely diverted.</i>] Try me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Not hoping much from his tone.</i>] You charming,
+tempting, delightful fellow, I could love you without the least
+effort in the world,&mdash;but, no!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Playing the game.</i>] Ah, well, now <i>seriously!</i> Between
+two people who have <i>suffered</i> and made their own mistakes&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Playing the game too, but not playing it well.</i>] But you
+see, you don't <i>really</i> love me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Still ready to say what is expected.</i>] Cynthia&mdash;Vida,
+no man can sit beside you and look into your eyes without
+feeling&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Speaking the truth as she sees it, seeing that her methods
+don't succeed.</i>] Oh! That's not love! That's simply&mdash;well, my
+dear Jack, it's beginning at the wrong end. And the truth is you
+hate Cynthia Karslake with such a whole-hearted hate, that you
+haven't a moment to think of any other woman.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>With sudden anger.</i>] I hate her!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Very softly and most sweetly.</i>] Jack&mdash;Jack, I could be
+as foolish about you as&mdash;oh, as foolish as anything, my dear!
+And perhaps some day&mdash;perhaps some day you'll come to me and
+say, Vida, I am totally indifferent to Cynthia&mdash;and then&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> And then?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>The ideal woman in mind.</i>] Then, perhaps, you and I
+may join hands and stroll together into the Garden of Eden. It
+takes two to find the Garden of Eden, you know&mdash;and once we're
+on the inside, we'll lock the gate.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Gaily, and seeing straight through her veneer.</i>] And lose
+the key under a rose-bush!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Agreeing very softly.</i>] Under a rose-bush! [<i>There is a
+very soft knock at which</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>starts up quickly.</i>] Come! [<span class="smcap">Brooks</span>
+<i>comes in, with</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span> <i>close at his heels.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> [<i>Stolid, announces.</i>] My lady&mdash;Sir Wilf&mdash; [<span class="smcap">Benson</span>
+<i>stops him with a sharp movement and turns toward</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> [<i>With intention.</i>] Your dressmaker, ma'am. [<span class="smcap">Benson</span>
+<i>waves</i> <span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>to go and</i> <span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>very haughtily complies.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Wonderingly.</i>] My dressmaker, Benson? [<i>With quick
+intelligence.</i>] Oh, of course, show her up. Mr. Karslake, you
+won't mind for a few minutes using my men's club-room? Benson<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_648" id="Page_648">[Pg 648]</a></span>
+will show you! You'll find cigars and the ticker, sporting
+papers, whiskey; and, if you want anything special, just 'phone
+down to my "chef."</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Looking at his watch.</i>] How long?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Very anxious to please.</i>] Half a cigar! Benson will
+call you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Practically-minded.</i>] Don't make it too long. You see,
+there's my sheriff's sale on at twelve, and those races this afternoon.
+Fiddler will be here in ten minutes, remember!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>The door opens.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] Run along! [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>leaves and</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>,
+<i>instantly practical, makes a broad gesture to</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>.] Everything
+just as it was, Benson! [<span class="smcap">Benson</span> <i>whisks the roses out of the vase and
+replaces them in the box. She gives</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>scissors and empty vases,
+and, when</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>finds herself in precisely the same position which
+preceded</i> <span class="smcap">John's</span> <i>entrance, she says:</i>] There!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>comes in as</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>takes a rose from basket.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> [<i>With characteristic stolidness.</i>] Your ladyship's
+dressmaker! M'lady! [<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>in morning suit,
+boutonni&egrave;re, &amp;c.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With tender surprise and busy with the roses.</i>] Is that
+really you, Sir Wilfrid! I never flattered myself for an instant
+that you'd remember to come.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Moving to the head of the sofa.</i>] Come? 'Course
+I come! Keen to come see you. By Jove, you know, you look
+as pink and white as a huntin' mornin'.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Ready to make any man as happy as possible.</i>] You'll
+smoke?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Thanks! [<i>He watches her as she trims and arranges
+the flowers.</i>] Awfully long fingers you have! Wish I was
+a rose, or a ring, or a pair of shears! I say, d'you ever notice what
+a devil of a fellow I am for originality, what? [<i>Unlike</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>is
+evidently impressed by her.</i>] You've got a delicate little den up
+here! Not so much low livin' and high thinkin', as low lights and
+no thinkin' at all, I hope&mdash;eh?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>By this time</i>, <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>has filled a vase with roses and rises to sweep
+by him and, if possible, make another charming picture to his eyes.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Gliding gracefully past him.</i>] You don't mind my
+moving about?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Impressed.</i>] Not if you don't mind my
+watchin'. [<i>Sitting down on the sofa.</i>] And sayin' how wel you do it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_649" id="Page_649">[Pg 649]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> It's most original of you to come here this morning. I
+don't quite see why you did.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>She places the roses here and there, as if to see their effect, and leaves
+them on a small table near the door through which her visitors
+entered.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Admiration.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Sauntering slowly toward the mirror as she speaks.</i>]
+Oh, I saw that you admired her! And of course, she did say she
+was coming here at eleven! But that was only bravado! She
+won't come, and besides, I've given orders to admit no one!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Attempting to dam the stream of her talk which
+flows gently but steadily on.</i>] May I ask you&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> And, indeed, if she came now, Mr. Karslake has gone,
+and her sole object in coming was to make him uncomfortable.
+[<i>She moves toward the table, stopping a half minute at the mirror
+to see that she looks as she wishes to look.</i>] Very dangerous symptom,
+too, that passionate desire to make one's former husband
+unhappy! But, I can't believe that your admiration for Cynthia
+Karslake is so warm that it led you to pay me this visit a half
+hour too early in the hope of seeing&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Rising; most civil, but speaking his mind like a
+Briton.</i>] I say, would you mind stopping a moment! [<i>She
+smiles.</i>] I'm not an American, you know; I was brought up not
+to interrupt. But you Americans, it's different with you! If
+somebody didn't interrupt you, you'd go on forever.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Passing him to tantalize.</i>] My point is you come to
+see Cynthia&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Believing she means it.</i>] I came hopin' to see&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Provokingly.</i>] Cynthia!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Perfectly single-minded and entirely taken in.</i>]
+But I would have come even if I'd known&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Evading him, while he follows.</i>] I don't believe it!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Protesting whole-heartedly.</i>] Give you my word
+I&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Leading him on.</i>] You're here to see <i>her</i>! And of
+course&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Determined to be heard because, after all, he's a
+man.</i>] May I have the&mdash;eh&mdash;the floor? [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>sits down in a
+chair.</i>] I was jolly well bowled over with Mrs. Karslake, I admit
+that, and I hoped to see her here, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_650" id="Page_650">[Pg 650]</a></span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Talking nonsense and knowing it.</i>] You had another
+object in coming. In fact, you came to see Cynthia, and you
+came to see me! What I really long to know is, why you wanted
+to see <i>me</i>! For, of course, Cynthia's to be married at three!
+And, if she wasn't she wouldn't have you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Not intending to wound; merely speaking the
+flat truth.</i>] Well, I mean to jolly well ask her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Indignant.</i>] To be your wife?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Why not?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Still indignant.</i>] And you came here, to my house&mdash;in
+order to ask her&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Truthful even on a subtle point.</i>] Oh, but that's
+only my first reason for coming, you know.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Concealing her hopes.</i>] Well, now I <i>am</i> curious&mdash;what
+is the second?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Simply.</i>] Are you feelin' pretty robust?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> I don't know!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Crosses to the buffet.</i>] Will you have something,
+and then I'll tell you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Gaily.</i>] Can't I support the news without&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Trying to explain his state of mind, a feat which
+he has never been able to accomplish.</i>] Mrs. Phillimore, you see it's
+this way. Whenever you're lucky, you're too lucky. Now, Mrs.
+Karslake is a nipper and no mistake, but as I told you, the very
+same evenin' and house where I saw her&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He attempts to take her hand.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Gently rising and affecting a tender surprise.</i>] What!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Rising with her.</i>] That's it!&mdash;You're over! [<i>He
+suggests with his right hand the movement of a horse taking a hurdle.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Very sweetly.</i>] You don't really mean&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Carried away for the moment by so much true
+womanliness.</i>] I mean, I stayed awake for an hour last night,
+thinkin' about you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Speaking to be contradicted.</i>] But, you've just told me&mdash;that
+Cynthia&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Admitting the fact.</i>] Well, she did&mdash;she did
+bowl my wicket, but so did you&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Taking him very gently to task.</i>] Don't you think there's
+a limit to&mdash;      [<i>She sits down.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Roused by so much loveliness of soul.</i>] Now, see
+here, Mrs. Phillimore! You and I are not bottle babies, eh, are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_651" id="Page_651">[Pg 651]</a></span>
+we? You've been married and&mdash;I&mdash;I've knocked about, and we
+both know there's a lot of stuff talked about&mdash;eh, eh, well, you
+know:&mdash;the one and only&mdash;that a fellow can't be awfully well
+smashed by two at the same time, don't you know! All rubbish!
+You know it, and the proof of the puddin's in the eatin', I am!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With gentle reproach.</i>] May I ask where I come in?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Well, now, Mrs. Phillimore, I'll be frank with
+you, Cynthia's my favourite, but you're runnin' her a close
+second in the popular esteem!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Laughing, determined not to take offense.</i>] What a
+delightful, original, fantastic person you are!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Frankly happy that he has explained everything so
+neatly.</i>] I knew you'd take it that way!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> And what next, pray?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, just the usual,&mdash;eh,&mdash;thing,&mdash;the&mdash;eh&mdash;the
+same old question, don't you know. Will you have me if she don't?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>A shade piqued, but determined not to risk showing it.</i>]
+And you call that the same old usual question?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Yes, I know, but&mdash;but will you? I sail in a
+week; we can take the same boat. And&mdash;eh&mdash;eh&mdash;my dear Mrs.&mdash;mayn't
+I say Vida, I'd like to see you at the head of my table.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With velvet irony.</i>] With Cynthia at the foot?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Practical, as before.</i>] Never mind Mrs.
+Karslake,&mdash;I admire her&mdash;she's&mdash;but you have your own points! And
+you're here, and so'm I!&mdash;damme I offer myself, and my affections,
+and I'm no icicle, my dear, tell you that for a fact, and,&mdash;and
+in fact what's your answer!&mdash; [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>sighs and shakes her
+head.</i>] Make it, yes! I say, you know, my dear Vida&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He catches her hands.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Drawing them from his.</i>] Unhand me, dear villain!
+And sit further away from your second choice! What can I say?
+I'd rather have <i>you</i> for a lover than any man I know! You must
+be a lovely lover!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> I am!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He makes a second effort to catch her fingers.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Will you kindly go further away and be good!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Quite forgetting</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span>] Look here, if you
+say yes, we'll be married&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> In a month!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, no&mdash;this evening!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_652" id="Page_652">[Pg 652]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Incapable of leaving a situation unadorned.</i>] This
+evening! And sail in the same boat with <i>you</i>? And shall we sail to
+the Garden of Eden and stroll into it and lock the gate on the
+inside and then lose the key&mdash;under a rose-bush?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>After a pause and some consideration.</i>] Yes;
+yes, I say&mdash;that's too clever for me! [<i>He draws nearer to her to
+bring the understanding to a crisis.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Interrupted by a soft knock.</i>] My maid&mdash;come!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Swinging out of his chair and moving to the sofa.</i>] Eh?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> [<i>Coming in and approaching</i> <span class="smcap">Vida.</span>] The new footman,
+ma'am&mdash;he's made a mistake. He's told the lady you're at
+home.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> What lady?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> Mrs. Karslake; and she's on the stairs, ma'am.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Show her in.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>has been turning over the roses. On hearing this, he
+faces about with a long stemmed one in his hand. He subsequently
+uses it to point his remarks.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>, <i>who stops.</i>] One moment! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Vida.</span>] I say, eh&mdash;I'd rather not see her!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Very innocently.</i>] But you came here to see her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>A little flustered.</i>] I'd rather not. Eh,&mdash;I
+fancied I'd find you and her together&mdash;but her&mdash; [<i>Coming a step
+nearer.</i>] findin' me with you looks so dooced intimate,&mdash;no one
+else, d'ye see, I believe she'd&mdash;draw conclusions&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> Pardon me, ma'am&mdash;but I hear Brooks coming!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>.] Hold the door!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> So you don't want her to know&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] Be a good girl now&mdash;run me off
+somewhere!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>.] Show Sir Wilfrid the men's room.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>comes in.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> The men's room! Ah! Oh! Eh!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Beckoning him to go at once.</i>] Sir Wil&mdash; [<i>He hesitates;
+then as</i> <span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>advances, he flings off with</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> Lady Karslake, milady!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Anything more inopportune! I never dreamed she'd
+come&mdash; [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>comes in veiled. As she walks quickly into
+the room</i>, <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>greets her languorously.</i>] My dear Cynthia, you
+don't mean to say<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_653" id="Page_653">[Pg 653]</a></span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Rather short, and visibly agitated.</i>] Yes, I've come.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Polite, but not urgent.</i>] Do take off your veil.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Complying.</i>] Is no one here?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>As before.</i>] Won't you sit down?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Agitated and suspicious.</i>] Thanks, no&mdash;That is,
+yes, thanks. Yes! You haven't answered my question?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>waves her hand through the haze; glances suspiciously
+at the smoke, and looks about for the cigarette.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Playing innocence in the first degree.</i>] My dear, what
+makes you imagine that any one's here!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You've been smoking.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Oh, puffing away!      [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>sees the glasses.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> And drinking&mdash;a pair of drinks? [<i>Her eyes lighting
+on</i> <span class="smcap">John's</span> <i>gloves on the table at her elbow.</i>] Do they fit you, dear?
+[<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>smiles;</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>picks up the crop and looks at it and reads
+her own name.</i>] "Jack, from Cynthia."</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Without taking the trouble to double for a mere woman.</i>]
+Yes, dear; it's Mr. Karslake's crop, but I'm happy to say he left
+me a few minutes ago.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> He left the house? [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>smiles.</i>] I wanted to see
+him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With a shade of insolence.</i>] To quarrel?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Frank and curt.</i>] I wanted to see him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Determined to put</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>in the wrong.</i>] And I sent
+him away because I didn't want you to repeat the scene of last
+night in my house.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Looks at crop and is silent.</i>] Well, I can't stay. I'm
+to be married at three, and I had to play truant to get here!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Benson</span> <i>comes in.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] There's a person, ma'am, on the sidewalk.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> What person, Benson?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> A person, ma'am, with a horse.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Happily agitated.</i>] It's Fiddler with Cynthia K!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She walks rapidly to the window and looks out.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>.] Tell the man I'll be down in five minutes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Looking down from the balcony with delight.</i>] Oh,
+there she is!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>.] Go to the club-room, Benson, and
+say to the two gentlemen I can't see them at present&mdash;I'll send
+for them when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_654" id="Page_654">[Pg 654]</a></span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> [<i>Listening.</i>] I hear some one coming.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Quick! [<span class="smcap">Benson</span> <i>leaves the door which opens and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>comes in slowly, carelessly.</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>whispers to</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> [<i>Moving close to</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and whispering.</i>] Beg par&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Under her breath.</i>] Go back!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Not understanding.</i>] I beg pardon!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Scarcely above a whisper.</i>] Go back!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Dense.</i>] Can't! I've a date! With the sheriff!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>A little cross.</i>] Please use your eyes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Laughing and flattering</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] I am using my eyes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Fretted.</i>] Don't you see there's a lovely creature in
+the room?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Not knowing what it is all about, but taking a wicked
+delight in seeing her customary calm ruffled.</i>] Of course there is.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Hush!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Teasingly.</i>] But what I want to know is&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Hush!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Enjoying his fun.</i>] &mdash;is when we're to stroll in the
+Garden of Eden&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Hush!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> &mdash;and lose the key. [<i>To put a stop to this, she lightly
+tosses her handkerchief into his face.</i>] By George, talk about attar
+of roses!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>At window, excited and moved at seeing her mare once
+more.</i>] Oh, she's a darling! [<i>Turning.</i>] A perfect darling!
+[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>starts up; he sees</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>at the same instant that she sees
+him.</i>] Oh! I didn't know you were here. [<i>After a pause, with
+"take-it-or-leave-it" frankness.</i>] I came to see <i>you</i>! [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>looks
+extremely dark and angry;</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>rises.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>most gently, and seeing there's nothing to
+be gained of</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] Oh, pray feel at home, Cynthia, dear!
+[<i>Stopping by the door to her bedroom; to</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] When I've a nice
+street frock on, I'll ask you to present me to Cynthia K. [<span class="smcap">Vida</span>
+<i>opens the door and goes out.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>involuntarily
+exchange glances.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Agitated and frank.</i>] Of course, I told you yesterday
+I was coming here.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Irritated.</i>] And I was to deny myself the privilege of
+being here?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Curt and agitated.</i>] Yes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Ready to fight.</i>] And you guessed I would do that?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_655" id="Page_655">[Pg 655]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> No.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> What?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Speaks with agitation, frankness and good will.</i>]
+Jack&mdash;I mean, Mr. Karslake,&mdash;no, I mean, Jack! I came because&mdash;well,
+you see, it's my wedding day!&mdash;and&mdash;and&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;was
+rude to you last evening. I'd like to apologize and make peace
+with you before I go&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Determined to be disagreeable.</i>] Before you go to your
+last, long home!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I came to apologize.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> But you'll remain to quarrel!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Still frank and kind.</i>] I will not quarrel. No!&mdash;and
+I'm only here for a moment. I'm to be married at three, and
+just look at the clock! Besides, I told Philip I was going to
+Louise's shop, and I did&mdash;on the way here; but, you see, if I stay
+too long he'll telephone Louise and find I'm not there, and he
+might guess I was here. So you see I'm risking a scandal. And
+now, Jack, see here, I lay my hand on the table, I'm here on the
+square, and,&mdash;what I want to say is, why&mdash;Jack, even if we have
+made a mess of our married life, let's put by anger and pride.
+It's all over now and can't be helped. So let's be human, let's be
+reasonable, and let's be kind to each other! Won't you give me
+your hand? [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>refuses.</i>] I wish you every happiness!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Turning away, the past rankling.</i>] I had a client once,
+a murderer; he told me he murdered the man, and he told me,
+too, that he never felt so kindly to anybody as he did to that man
+after he'd killed him!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Jack!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Unforgiving.</i>] You murdered my happiness!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I won't recriminate!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> And now I must put by anger and pride! I do! But
+not self-respect, not a just indignation&mdash;not the facts and my
+clear memory of them!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Jack!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> No!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With growing emotion, and holding out her hand.</i>]
+I give you one more chance! Yes, I'm determined to be generous.
+I forgive everything you ever did to me. I'm ready to be friends.
+I wish you every happiness and every&mdash;every&mdash;horse in the
+world! I can't do more than that! [<i>She offers it again.</i>] You
+refuse?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_656" id="Page_656">[Pg 656]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Moved but surly.</i>] I like wildcats and I like Christians,
+but I don't like Christian wildcats! Now I'm close hauled, trot
+out your tornado! Let the Tiger loose! It's the tamer, the man
+in the cage that has to look lively and use the red hot crowbar!
+But, by Jove, I'm out of the cage! I'm a mere spectator of the
+married circus!      [<i>He puffs vigorously.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Be a game sport then! Our marriage was a wager;
+you wagered you could live with me. You lost; you paid with
+a divorce; and now is the time to show your sporting blood.
+Come on, shake hands and part friends.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Not in this world! Friends with you, no! I have a
+proper pride. I don't propose to put my pride in my
+pocket.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Jealous and plain spoken.</i>] Oh, I wouldn't ask you
+to put your pride in your pocket while Vida's handkerchief is
+there. [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>looks angered.</i>] Pretty little bijou of a handkerchief!
+[<i>Pulling out the handkerchief.</i>] And she is charming, and
+divorced, and reasonably well made up.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh, well, Vida is a woman. [<i>Toying with the handkerchief.</i>]
+I'm a man, a handkerchief is a handkerchief, and, as some
+old Aristotle or other said, whatever concerns a woman, concerns
+me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Not oblivious of him, but in a low voice.</i>] Insufferable!
+Well, yes. [<i>She sits down. She is too much wounded to make
+any further appeal.</i>] You're perfectly right. There's no possible
+harmony between divorced people! I withdraw my hand and all
+good feeling. No wonder I couldn't stand you. Eh? However,
+that's pleasantly past! But at least, my dear Karslake, let us
+have some sort of beauty behaviour! If we cannot be decent, let
+us endeavour to be graceful. If we can't be moral, at least we
+can avoid being vulgar.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> If there's to be no more marriage in the world&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Cynically.</i>] Oh, but that's not it; there's to be more
+and more and more!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With a touch of bitterness.</i>] Very well! I repeat
+then, if there's to be nothing but marriage and divorce, and re-marriage,
+and re-divorce, at least, at least, those who <i>are</i> divorced
+can avoid the vulgarity of meeting each other here, there, and
+everywhere!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh, that's where you come out!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_657" id="Page_657">[Pg 657]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I thought so yesterday, and to-day I know it. It's
+an insufferable thing to a woman of any delicacy of feeling to
+find her husband&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Ahem&mdash;former!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> <i>Once</i> a husband always&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>In the same cynical tone.</i>] Oh, no! Oh, dear, no.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> To find her&mdash;to find the man she has once lived with&mdash;in
+the house of&mdash;making love to&mdash;to find you here! [<span class="smcap">John</span>
+<i>smiles and rises.</i>] You smile,&mdash;but I say, it should be a social
+axiom, no woman should have to meet her former husband.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Cynical and cutting.</i>] Oh, I don't know; after I've
+served my term I don't mind meeting my jailor.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>As</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>takes chair near her.</i>] It's indecent&mdash;at
+the horse-show, the opera, at races and balls, to meet the man
+who once&mdash;It's not civilized! It's fantastic! It's half
+baked! Oh, I never should have come here! [<i>He sympathizes,
+and she grows irrational and furious.</i>] But it's entirely your
+fault!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> My fault?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Working herself into a rage.</i>] Of course. What
+business have you to be about&mdash;to be at large. To be at all!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Gosh!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Her rage increasing.</i>] To be where I am! Yes, it's
+just as horrible for you to turn up in my life as it would be for a
+dead person to insist on coming back to life and dinner and bridge!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Horrid idea!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Yes, but it's <i>you</i> who behave just as if you were not
+dead, just as if I'd not spent a fortune on your funeral. You do;
+you prepare to bob up at afternoon teas,&mdash;and dinners&mdash;and
+embarrass me to death with your extinct personality!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, of course we <i>were</i> married, but it didn't quite
+kill me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Angry and plain spoken.</i>] You killed yourself for
+me&mdash;I divorced you. I buried you out of my life. If any human
+soul was ever dead, you are! And there's nothing I so hate as a
+gibbering ghost.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh, I say!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With hot anger.</i>] Go gibber and squeak where
+gibbering and squeaking are the fashion!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Laughing and pretending to a coldness he does not feel.</i>]
+And so, my dear child, I'm to abate myself as a nuisance! Well,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_658" id="Page_658">[Pg 658]</a></span>
+as far as seeing you is concerned, for my part it's just like seeing
+a horse who's chucked you once. The bruises are O. K., and you
+see him with a sort of easy curiosity. Of course, you know, he'll
+jolly well chuck the next man!&mdash;Permit me! [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>picks up her
+gloves, handkerchief and parasol, and gives her these as she drops
+them one by one in her agitation.</i>] There's pleasure in the
+thought.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> And now, may I ask you a very simple question? Mere
+curiosity on my part, but, why did you come here this
+morning?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I have already explained that to you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Not your real motive. Permit me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> But I believe I have guessed your real&mdash;permit me&mdash;your
+real motive!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>With mock sympathy.</i>] Cynthia, I am sorry for you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> H'm?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Of course we had a pretty lively case of the fever&mdash;the
+mutual attraction fever, and we <i>were</i> married a very short time.
+And I conclude that's what's the matter with <i>you</i>! You see, my
+dear, seven months of married life is too short a time to cure a
+bad case of the fancies.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>In angry surprise.</i>] What?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Calm and triumphant.</i>] That's my diagnosis.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Slowly and gathering herself together.</i>] I don't think
+I understand.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh, yes, you do; yes, you do.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With blazing eyes.</i>] What do you mean?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Would you mind not breaking my crop! Thank you!
+I mean [<i>With polite impertinence.</i>] that ours was a case of premature
+divorce, and, ahem, you're in love with me still.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>He pauses.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>has one moment of fury, then she realizes at
+what a disadvantage this places her. She makes an immense effort,
+recovers her calm, thinks hard for a moment more, and then, has
+suddenly an inspiration.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Jack, some day you'll get the blind staggers from
+conceit. No, I'm not in love with you, Mr. Karslake, but I
+shouldn't be at all surprised if she were. She's just your sort,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_659" id="Page_659">[Pg 659]</a></span>
+you know. She's a man-eating shark, and you'll be a toothsome
+mouthful. Oh, come now, Jack, what a silly you are! Oh, yes,
+you are, to get off a joke like that; me&mdash;in love with&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She looks at him.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Why are you here? [<i>She laughs and begins to play her
+game.</i>] Why are you here?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Guess!      [<i>She laughs.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Why are you&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Quickly.</i>] Why am I here! I'll tell you. I'm going
+to be married. I had a longing, an irresistible longing to see you
+make an ass of yourself just once more! It happened!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Uncertain and discomfited.</i>] I know better!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> But I came for a serious purpose, too. I came, my
+dear fellow, to make an experiment on myself. I've been with
+you thirty minutes; and&mdash; [<i>She sighs with content.</i>] It's all
+right!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> What's all right?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Calm and apparently at peace with the world.</i>] I'm
+immune.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Immune?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You're not catching any more! Yes, you see, I said
+to myself, if I fly into a temper&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> You did!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> If I fly into a temper when I see him, well, that shows
+I'm not yet so entirely convalescent that I can afford to have
+Jack Karslake at my house. If I remain calm I shall ask him to
+dinner.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Routed.</i>] Ask me if you dare!      [<i>He rises.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Getting the whip hand for good.</i>] Ask you to dinner?
+Oh, my dear fellow. [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>rises.</i>] I'm going to do much more
+than that. [<i>She rises.</i>] We must be friends, old man! We must
+meet, we must meet often, we must show New York the way the
+thing should be done, and, to show you I mean it&mdash;I want
+you to be my best man, and give me away when I'm married this
+afternoon.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Incredulous and impatient.</i>] You don't mean that!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He pushes back his chair.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> There you are! Always suspicious!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> You don't mean that!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Hiding her emotion under a sportswoman's manner.</i>]
+Don't I? I ask you, come! And come as you are! And I'll lay<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_660" id="Page_660">[Pg 660]</a></span>
+my wedding gown to Cynthia K that you won't be there! If
+you're there, you get the gown, and if you're not, I get Cynthia K!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Determined not to be worsted.</i>] I take it!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Done! Now, then, we'll see which of us two is the
+real sporting goods! Shake! [<i>They shake hands on it.</i>] Would
+you mind letting me have a plain soda? [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>goes to the table,
+and, as he is rattled and does not regard what he is about, he fills the
+glass three-fourths full with whiskey. He gives this to</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>who
+looks him in the eye with an air of triumph.</i>] Thanks. [<i>Maliciously,
+as</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>enters.</i>] Your hand is a bit shaky. I think <i>you</i> need a
+little King William. [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>shrugs his shoulders, and, as</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>
+<i>immediately speaks,</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>defers drinking.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] My dear, I'm sorry to tell you your
+husband&mdash;I mean, my husband&mdash;I mean Philip&mdash;he's asking for
+you over the 'phone. You must have said you were coming here.
+Of course, I told him you were not here, and hung up.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> [<i>Entering hurriedly and at once moving to</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.]
+Ma'am, the new footman's been talking with Mr. Phillimore on
+the wire. [<span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>gesture of regret.</i>] He told Mr. Phillimore that
+his lady was here, and, if I can believe my ears, ma'am, he's got
+Sir Wilfrid on the 'phone now!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Making his appearance, perplexed and annoyed.</i>]
+I say, y' know&mdash;extraordinary country; that old chap, Phillimore,
+he's been damned impertinent over the wire! Says I've
+run off with Mrs. Karslake&mdash;talks about "Louise!" Now, who
+the dooce is Louise? He's comin' round here, too&mdash;I said Mrs.
+Karslake wasn't here&mdash; [<i>Seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Hello! Good job!
+What a liar I am!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> [<i>Coming to the door. To</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] Mr. Fiddler, ma'am,
+says the mare is gettin' very restive.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>hears this and moves at once</i>. <span class="smcap">Benson</span> <i>withdraws.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] If that mare's restive, she'll break out in a
+rash.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] Will you take me?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Of course.      [<i>They go to the door.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] Tata, old man! Meet you at the altar!
+If I don't, the mare's mine!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>looks at her amazed.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Do the honours, dear, in my
+absence!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_661" id="Page_661">[Pg 661]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Come along, come along, never mind them! A horse
+is a horse!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>go out gaily and in haste. At the same moment</i>
+<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>drinks what she supposes to be her glass of plain soda.
+As it is whiskey straight, she is seized with astonishment and
+a fit of coughing.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>relieves her of the glass.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Indicating the contents of the glass.</i>] I say, do
+you ordinarily take it as high up&mdash;as seven fingers and two
+thumbs.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Coughing.</i>] Jack poured it out. Just shows how
+groggy he was! And now, Sir Wilfrid&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She gets her things to go.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, you can't go!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>appears at the door.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I am to be married at three.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Let him wait. [<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Brooks</span>, <i>whom he meets
+near the door.</i>] If Mr. Phillimore comes, bring his card up.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> [<i>Going.</i>] Yes, Sir Wilfrid.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> To me!      [<i>Tipping him.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> [<i>Bowing.</i>] To you, Sir Wilfrid. [<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>goes.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Returning to</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] I've got to have my
+innings, y' know! [<i>Looking at her more closely.</i>] I say, you've
+been crying!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> King William!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> You <i>are</i> crying! Poor little gal!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Tears in her eyes.</i>] I feel all shaken and cold.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>returns with a card.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Astonished and sympathetic.</i>] Poor little gal.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Her eyes wet.</i>] I didn't sleep a wink last night.
+[<i>With disgust.</i>] Oh, what is the matter with me?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Why, it's as plain as a pikestaff! You&mdash;
+[<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>has carried in the card to</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfred</span>, <i>who picks it up and
+says aside, to</i> <span class="smcap">Brooks</span>:] Phillimore? [<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>assents. Aloud to</i>
+<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>calmly deceitful.</i>] Who's Waldorf Smith? [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>
+<i>shakes her head. To</i> <span class="smcap">Brooks</span>, <i>returning card to salver.</i>] Tell the
+gentleman Mrs. Karslake is not here! [<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>leaves the room.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Aware that she has no business where she is.</i>] I
+thought it was Philip!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Telling the truth as if it were a lie.</i>] So did I!
+[<i>With cheerful confidence.</i>] And now, Mrs. Karslake, I'll tell you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_662" id="Page_662">[Pg 662]</a></span>
+why you're cryin'. [<i>Sitting down beside her.</i>] You're marryin' the
+wrong man! I'm sorry for you, but you're such a goose. Here
+you are, marryin' this legal luminary. What for? You don't
+know! He don't know! But I do! You pretend you're marryin'
+him because it's the sensible thing; not a bit of it. You're marryin'
+Mr. Phillimore because of all the other men you ever saw
+he's the least like Jack Karslake.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> That's a very good reason.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> There's only one good reason for marrying, and
+that is because you'll die if you don't!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh, I've tried that!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> The Scripture says: "Try! try! again!" I tell
+you, there's nothing like a w'im!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> What's that? W'im? Oh, you mean a <i>whim</i>! Do
+please try and say W<i>h</i>im!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>For the first time emphasizing his H in the word.</i>]
+W<i>h</i>im. You must have a w'im&mdash;w'im for the chappie you
+marry.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I had&mdash;for Jack.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Your w'im wasn't wimmy enough, my dear! If
+you'd had more of it, and tougher, it would ha' stood, y'know!
+Now, I'm not proposin'!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Diverted at last from her own distress.</i>] I hope not!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, I will later! It's not time yet! As I was
+saying&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> And pray, Sir Wilfrid, when will it be time?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> As soon as I see you have a w'im for me!
+[<i>Rising, looks at his watch.</i>] And now, I'll tell you what we'll do!
+We've got just an hour to get there in, my motor's on the corner,
+and in fifty minutes we'll be at Belmont Park.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Her sporting blood fired.</i>] Belmont Park!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> We'll do the races, and dine at Martin's&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Tempted.</i>] Oh, if I only could! I can't! I've got
+to be married! You're awfully nice; I've almost got a "w'im"
+for you already.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Delighted.</i>] There you are! I'll send a telegram!
+[<i>She shakes her head. He sits and writes at the table.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> No, no, no!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Reading what he has written.</i>] "Off with Cates-Darby
+to Races. Please postpone ceremony till seven-thirty."</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh, no, it's impossible!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_663" id="Page_663">[Pg 663]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Accustomed to have things go his way.</i>] No more
+than breathin'! You can't get a w'im for me, you know, unless
+we're together, so together we'll be! [<span class="smcap">John Karslake</span> <i>opens the
+door, and, unnoticed, walks into the room.</i>] And to-morrow you'll
+wake up with a jolly little w'im&mdash;, [<i>Reading.</i>] "Postpone
+ceremony till seven-thirty." There. [<i>He puts on her cloak and
+turning, sees</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] Hello!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Surly.</i>] Hello! Sorry to disturb you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Cheerful as possible.</i>] Just the man! [<i>Giving
+him the telegraph form.</i>] Just step round and send it, my boy.
+Thanks!      [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>reads it.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> No, no, I can't go!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Cockety-coo-coo-can't. I say, you must!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Positively.</i>] <i>No!</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Astounded.</i>] Do you mean you're going&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Very gay.</i>] Off to the races, my boy!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Angry and outraged.</i>] Mrs. Karslake can't go with
+you there!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>starts, amazed at his assumption of marital authority,
+and delighted that she will have an opportunity of outraging his
+sensibilities.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oho!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> An hour before her wedding!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Gay and not angry.</i>] May I know if it's the custom&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Jealous and disgusted.</i>] It's worse than eloping&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Custom, y' know, for the husband, that was, to
+dictate&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Thoroughly vexed.</i>] By George, there's a limit!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> What? What? What? [<i>Gathering up her things.</i>]
+What did I hear you say?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Ah!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Angry.</i>] I say there's a limit&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>More and more determined to arouse and excite</i>
+<span class="smcap">John</span>.] Oh, there's a limit, is there?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> There is! I bar the way! It means reputation&mdash;it
+means&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Enjoying her opportunity.</i>] We shall see what it
+means!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Aha!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_664" id="Page_664">[Pg 664]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] I'm here to protect your reputation&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] We've got to make haste, you
+know.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Now, I'm ready&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Be sensible. You're breaking off the
+match&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Excitedly.</i>] What's that to you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> It's boots and saddles!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Taking his stand between them and the door.</i>] No
+thoroughfare!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Look here, my boy&mdash;!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Catching at the opportunity of putting</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>in an
+impossible position.</i>] Wait a moment, Sir Wilfrid! Give me the
+wire! [<i>Facing him.</i>] Thanks! [<i>Taking the telegraph form from
+him and tearing it up.</i>] There! Too rude to chuck him by wire!
+But you, Jack, you've taken on yourself to look after my interests,
+so I'll just ask you, old man, to run down to the Supreme
+Court and tell Philip&mdash;nicely, you know&mdash;I'm off with Sir Wilfrid
+and where! Say I'll be back by seven, if I'm not later! And
+make it clear, Jack, I'll marry him by eight-thirty or nine at the
+latest! And mind <i>you're</i> there, dear! And now, Sir Wilfrid,
+we're off.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Staggered and furious, giving way as they pass him.</i>]
+I'm not the man to&mdash;to carry&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Quick and dashing.</i>] Oh, yes, you are.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> &mdash;a message from you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Triumphant.</i>] Oh, yes, you are; you're just
+exactly the man!      [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>whirl out.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Great miracles of Moses!</p>
+
+
+<p class="center">
+<span class="smcap">Curtain.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="ACT_III" id="ACT_III"></a>ACT III.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Scene.</span> <i>The same as that of Act I, but the room has been cleared of
+superfluous furniture, and arranged for a wedding ceremony.</i>
+<span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>is reclining on the sofa at the right of the table,</i>
+<span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>at its left.</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>is seated at the right of the
+table.</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>is seated on the sofa. There is a wedding-bell of
+roses, an arch of orange blossoms, and, girdled by a ribbon of
+white, an altar of calla lilies. There are cushions of flowers,</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_665" id="Page_665">[Pg 665]</a></span>
+<i>alcoves of flowers, vases of flowers&mdash;in short, flowers everywhere
+and in profusion and variety. Before the altar are two cushions
+for the couple to kneel on and, on pedestals, at each side of the arch,
+are twin candelabra. The hangings are pink and white.</i></p></div>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>The room, first of all, and its emblems, holds the undivided attention;
+then slowly engaging it, and in contrast to their gay surroundings,
+the occupants. About each and everyone of them, hangs a deadly
+atmosphere of suppressed irritation.</i></p></div>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Impatiently.</i>] All very well, my dear Sarah. But
+you see the hour. Twenty to ten! We have been here since half-past
+two.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> You had dinner?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> I did not come here at two to have dinner at eight,
+and be kept waiting until ten! And, my dear Sarah, when I ask
+where the bride is&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>With forced composure.</i>] I have told you all
+I know. Mr. John Karslake came to the house at lunch time,
+spoke to Philip, and they left the house together.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> Where is Philip?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>Feebly, irritated.</i>] I don't wish to be
+censorious or to express an actual opinion, but I must say it's a
+bold bride who keeps her future mother-in-law waiting for eight
+hours. However, I will not venture to&mdash; [<span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>
+<i>reclines again and fades away into silence.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>Sharply and decisively.</i>] I do! I'm sorry I went to
+the expense of a silver ice-pitcher.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>sighs.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>keeps her temper with
+an effort which is obvious.</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>opens the door.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>.] For my part, I don't believe
+Mrs. Karslake means to return here or to marry Philip at all!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>Coming in, and approaching</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>.] Two
+telegrams for you, ma'am! The choir boys have had their supper.
+[<i>A slight movement ripples the ominous calm of all.</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>
+<i>steps back.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Rising.</i>] At last we shall know!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> From the lady! Probably!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>opens the first telegram and reads it at a glance,
+laying it on the salver again with a look at</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span>. <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>
+<i>passes the salver to</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span>, <i>who takes the telegram.</i></p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_666" id="Page_666">[Pg 666]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> There's a toot now.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>Feebly, confused.</i>] I don't wish to intrude,
+but really I cannot imagine Philip marrying at midnight. [<i>As</i>
+<span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>reads</i>, <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>opens the second telegram, but does
+not read it.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Reading.</i>] "Accident, auto struck"&mdash;something!
+"Gasoline"&mdash;did something&mdash;illegible, ah! [<i>Reads.</i>] "Home by
+nine forty-five! Hold the church!"</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>A general movement sets in.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Profoundly shocked.</i>] "Hold the church!"
+William, she still means to marry Philip! and to-night, too!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> It's from Belmont Park.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>Making a great discovery.</i>] She went to the
+races!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> This is from Philip! [<i>Reading the second telegram.</i>]
+"I arrive at ten o'clock. Have dinner ready." [<span class="smcap">Miss
+Heneage</span> <i>motions to</i> Thomas, <i>who, obeying, retires. Looking at
+her watch.</i>] They are both due now. [<i>Movement.</i>] What's to be
+done?      [<i>She rises and</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>shrugs his shoulders.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Rising.</i>] After a young woman has spent her
+wedding day at the races? Why, I consider that she has broken
+the engagement,&mdash;and when she comes, tell her so.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> I'll telephone Matthew. The choir boys can
+go home&mdash;her maid can pack her belongings&mdash;and when the lady
+arrives&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Impudently, the very distant toot of an auto-horn breaks in upon
+her words, producing, in proportion to its growing nearness, an
+increasing pitch of excitement and indignation.</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>flies to
+the door and looks out.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>, <i>helpless, does not
+know what to do or where to go or what to say.</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>moves
+about excitedly.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>stands ready to make herself
+disagreeable.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>Speaking rapidly and with excitement.</i>] I hear a man's
+voice. Cates-Darby and brother Matthew.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>A loud and brazenly insistent toot outrages afresh. Laughter and
+voices outside are heard faintly.</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>looks out of the door, and,
+as quickly withdraws.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Outrageous!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> Disgraceful!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_667" id="Page_667">[Pg 667]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> Shocking! [<i>Partly rising as the voices and
+horn are heard.</i>] I shall not take any part at all, in the&mdash;eh&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She fades away.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Interrupting her.</i>] Don't trouble yourself.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Through the growing noise of voices and laughter,</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia's</span> <i>voice
+is heard.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>is seen in the outer hall. He is burdened
+with wraps, not to mention a newspaper and parasol, which in
+no wise check his flow of gay remarks to</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>who is still
+outside.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia's</span> <i>voice, and now</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew's</span>, <i>reach those
+inside, and, at last, both join</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>, <i>who has turned at the
+door to wait for them. As she reaches the door</i>, <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>turns
+and speaks to</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>, <i>who immediately follows her. She is in
+automobile attire, wearing goggles, a veil, and an exquisite duster
+of latest Paris style. They come in with a subdued bustle and
+noise. As their eyes light on</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Miss
+Heneage</span> <i>exclaim, and there is a general movement.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> 'Pon my word!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> Hah!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Bristling up to her feet, her sensibilities outraged.</i>]
+Shocking!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>remains standing above sofa.</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>moves toward her</i>,
+<span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>sitting down again.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>reclines
+on sofa.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>begins to speak as soon as she appears and
+speaks fluently to the end.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> No! I never was so surprised in my life, as when I
+strolled into the paddock and they gave me a rousing reception&mdash;old
+Jimmy Withers, Debt Gollup, Jack Deal, Monty Spiffles, the
+Governor and Buckeye. All of my old admirers! They simply
+fell on my neck, and, dear Matthew, what do you think I did? I
+turned on the water main! [<i>There are movements and murmurs of
+disapprobation from the family.</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>indicates a desire to go.</i>]
+Oh, but you can't go!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> I'll return in no time!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I'm all ready to be married. Are they ready?
+[<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>waves a pious, polite gesture of recognition to the family.</i>]
+I beg everybody's pardon! [<i>Taking off her wrap and putting
+it on the back of a chair.</i>] My goggles are so dusty, I can't see
+who's who! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>.] Thanks! You <i>have</i> carried it
+well!      [<i>She takes the parasol from</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_668" id="Page_668">[Pg 668]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] When may I&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> See you next Goodwood!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Imperturbably.</i>] Oh, I'm coming back!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Advancing a bit toward the family.</i>] Not a bit of use
+in coming back! I shall be married before you get here! Ta!
+Ta! Goodwood!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Not in the least affected.</i>] I'm coming back.
+[<i>He goes out quickly. There are more murmurs of disapprobation
+from the family. There is a slight pause.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Beginning to take off her goggles, and moving nearer
+"the family."</i>] I do awfully apologize for being so late!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Importantly.</i>] Mrs. Karslake&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Importantly.</i>] Ahem! [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>lays down goggles,
+and sees their severity.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Dear me! [<i>Surveying the flowers and for a moment
+speechless.</i>] Oh, good heavens! Why, it looks like a smart
+funeral!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>moves; then speaks in a perfectly ordinary natural
+tone, but her expression is severe.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>immediately realizes
+the state of affairs in its fullness.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] After what has occurred,
+Mrs. Karslake&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Glances quietly toward the table, and then sits down
+at it, composed and good-tempered.</i>] I see you got my wire&mdash;so you
+know where I have been.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> To the race-course!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> With a rowdy Englishman. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>glances at</i>
+<span class="smcap">Sudley</span>, <i>uncertain whether he means to be disagreeable, or whether
+he is only naturally so.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> We concluded you desired to break the
+engagement!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Indifferently.</i>] No! No! Oh! No!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Do you intend, despite of our opinion of
+you&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> The only opinion that would have any weight with
+me would be Mrs. Phillimore's.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She turns expectantly to</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> I am generally asleep at this hour, and,
+accordingly, I will not venture to express any&mdash;eh&mdash;any&mdash;actual
+opinion.      [<i>She fades away.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>smiles.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_669" id="Page_669">[Pg 669]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Coldly.</i>] You smile. We simply inform you
+that as regards <i>us</i>, the alliance is not grateful.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Affecting gaiety and unconcern.</i>] And all this
+because the gasoline gave out.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> My patience has given out!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> So has mine. I'm going.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She makes good her word.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Vexed beyond civility. To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] My dear
+young lady: You come here, to this sacred&mdash;eh&mdash;eh&mdash;spot&mdash;altar!&mdash; [<i>Gesture.</i>]
+odoriferous of the paddock!&mdash;speaking of
+Spiffles and Buckeye,&mdash;having practically eloped!&mdash;having
+created a scandal, and disgraced our family!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Affecting surprise at this attitude.</i>] How does it disgrace
+you? Because I like to see a high-bred, clean, nervy, sweet
+little four-legged gee play the antelope over a hurdle!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Sister, it is high time that you&mdash;
+</p>
+<p><span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She turns to</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>with a gesture.</i></span>
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With quiet irony.</i>] Mrs. Phillimore is generally
+asleep at this hour, and accordingly she will not venture to
+express&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Spluttering with irritation.</i>] Enough, madam&mdash;I
+<i>venture</i> to&mdash;to&mdash;to&mdash;to say, you are leading a fast life.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With powerful intention.</i>] Not in this house! For
+six heavy weeks have I been laid away in the grave, and I've
+found it very slow indeed trying to keep pace with the dead!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Despairingly.</i>] This comes of horses!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Indignant.</i>] Of what?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> C-c-caring for horses!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>With sublime morality.</i>] What Mrs. Karslake
+cares for is&mdash;men.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Angry and gay.</i>] What would you have me care
+for? The Ornithorhyncus Paradoxus? or Pithacanthropus
+Erectus? Oh, I refuse to take you seriously. [<span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>begins to
+prepare to leave; he buttons himself into respectability and his coat.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> My dear madam, I take myself seriously&mdash;and
+madam, I&mdash;I retract what I have brought with me [<i>Feeling in his
+waistcoat pocket.</i>] as a graceful gift,&mdash;an Egyptian scarab&mdash;a&mdash;a&mdash;sacred
+beetle, which once ornamented the person of a&mdash;eh&mdash;mummy.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Scoring in return.</i>] It should never be absent from
+your pocket, Mr. Sudley!      [<span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>walks away in a rage.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_670" id="Page_670">[Pg 670]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Rising, to</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span>.] I've a vast mind to
+withdraw my&mdash;      [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>moves.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Interrupts; maliciously.</i>] Your wedding present?
+The little bronze cat!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Moves, angrily.</i>] Oh! [<i>Even</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>
+<i>comes momentarily to life, and expresses silent indignation.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Loftily.</i>] Sarah, I'm going.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Grace</span>, <i>who has met</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>, <i>takes occasion to accompany him into
+the room.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>looks dusty and grim. As they come in</i>,
+<span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>speaks to him, and</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>shakes his head. They pause
+near the door.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Emotionally.</i>] I shall go to my room! However,
+all I ask is that you repeat to Philip&mdash; [<i>As she moves toward the
+door, she comes suddenly upon</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>, <i>and speaks to him in a low
+voice.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>, <i>determined to win.</i>] As I go out,
+I shall do myself the pleasure of calling a hansom for Mrs.
+Karslake&mdash;      [<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>moves slightly from the door.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> As you go out, Sudley, have a hansom called, and
+when it comes, get into it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Furious.</i>] Eh,&mdash;eh,&mdash;my dear sir, I leave you to
+your fate. [<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>angrily points him the door and</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>leaves in great haste.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>With weight.</i>] Philip, you've not heard&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Interrupting.</i>] Everything&mdash;from Grace! My sister
+has repeated your words to me&mdash;and her own! I've told her
+what I think of <i>her</i>.      [<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>looks witheringly at</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> I shan't wait to hear any more.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She flounces out of the room.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Don't make it necessary for me to tell you what I
+think of you. [<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>moves to the right, toward his mother, to whom
+he gives his arm.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>immediately seeks the opposite
+side.</i>] Mother, with your permission, I desire to be alone. I
+expect both you and Grace, Sarah, to be dressed and ready for
+the ceremony a half hour from now. [<i>As</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>
+<i>are about to go out</i>, <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>speaks.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> I shall come or not as I see fit. And let me
+add, my dear brother, that a fool at forty is a fool indeed. [<span class="smcap">Miss
+Heneage</span>, <i>high and mighty, goes out, much pleased with her quotation.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_671" id="Page_671">[Pg 671]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>Stupid and weary as usual, to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>, <i>as
+he leads her to the door.</i>] My dear son&mdash;I won't venture to
+express&mdash;      [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>in irritation, moves to the table.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Soothing a silly mother.</i>] No, mother, don't! But I
+shall expect you, of course, at the ceremony. [<span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>
+<i>languidly retires.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>strides to the centre of the room, taking the
+tone, and assuming the attitude of, the injured husband.</i>] It is
+proper for me to tell you that I followed you to Belmont. I am
+aware&mdash;I know with whom&mdash;in fact, <i>I know all</i>! [<i>He punctuates
+his words with pauses, and indicates the whole censorious universe.</i>]
+And now let me assure you&mdash;I am the last man in the world to
+be jilted on the very eve of&mdash;of&mdash;everything with you. I won't
+be jilted. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>is silent.</i>] You understand? I propose to
+marry you. I won't be made ridiculous.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Glancing at</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] Philip, I didn't mean to
+make you&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Why, then, did you run off to Belmont Park with
+that fellow?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Philip, I&mdash;eh&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Sitting down at the table.</i>] What motive? What
+reason? On our wedding day? Why did you do it?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I'll tell you the truth. I was bored.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Staggered.</i>] Bored? In my company?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I was bored, and then&mdash;and besides, Sir Wilfrid
+asked me to go.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Exactly, and that was why you went. Cynthia, when
+you promised to marry me, you told me you had forever done
+with love. You agreed that marriage was the rational coming
+together of two people.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I know, I know!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Do you believe that now?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I don't know what I believe. My brain is in a
+whirl! But, Philip, I am beginning to be&mdash;I'm afraid&mdash;yes, I am
+afraid that one can't just select a great and good man [<i>Indicating
+him.</i>] and say: I will be happy with him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>With complacent dignity.</i>] I don't see why not. You
+must assuredly do one or the other: You must either let your
+heart choose or your head select.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Gravely.</i>] No, there's a third scheme: Sir Wilfrid
+explained the theory to me. A woman should marry whenever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_672" id="Page_672">[Pg 672]</a></span>
+she has a whim for the man, and then leave the rest to the man.
+Do you see?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Furious.</i>] Do I see? Have I ever seen any thing else?
+Marry for whim! That's the New York idea of marriage.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Observing cynically.</i>] New York ought to
+know.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Marry for whim and leave the rest to the divorce
+court! Marry for whim and leave the rest to the man. That was
+the former Mrs. Phillimore's idea. Only she spelled "whim"
+differently; she omitted the "w." [<i>He rises in his anger.</i>] And
+now you&mdash;<i>you</i> take up with this preposterous&mdash; [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>
+<i>moves uneasily.</i>] But, nonsense! It's impossible! A woman of
+your mental calibre&mdash;No. Some obscure, primitive, female
+<i>feeling</i> is at work corrupting your better judgment! What is it
+you <i>feel</i>?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Philip, you never felt like a fool, did you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> No, never.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Politely.</i>] I thought not.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> No, but whatever your feelings, I conclude you are
+ready to marry me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Uneasy.</i>] Of course, I came back. I am here, am
+I not?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> You are ready to marry me?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Twisting in the coils.</i>] But you haven't had your
+dinner.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Do I understand you refuse?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Couldn't we defer&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> You refuse?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Desperately thinking of an escape from her promise,
+and finding none.</i>] No, I said I'd marry you. I'm a woman of my
+word. I will.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Triumphant.</i>] Ah! Very good, then. Run to your
+room. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>turns to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] Throw something over you.
+In a half hour I'll expect you here! And Cynthia, my dear,
+remember! I cannot cuculate like a wood-pigeon, but&mdash;I esteem
+you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Hopelessly.</i>] I think I'll go, Philip.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> I may not be fitted to play the love-bird, but&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Spiritlessly.</i>] I think I'll go, Philip.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> I'll expect you,&mdash;in half an hour.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With leaden despair.</i>] Yes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_673" id="Page_673">[Pg 673]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> And, Cynthia, don't think any more about that fellow,
+Cates-Darby.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Amazed and disgusted by his misapprehension.</i>]
+No. [<i>As</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>leaves</i>, <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>comes in from the opposite door.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Not seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>, <i>and clumsily defiant.</i>] And if I
+had that fellow, Cates-Darby, in the dock&mdash;!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Sir what&mdash;what&mdash;wh-who? [<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>enters in
+evening dress.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>looks</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>in the face and speaks to</i>
+<span class="smcap">Thomas</span>.] Tell Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby I am not at home to
+him.      [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>is embarrassed.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Undaunted.</i>] My dear Lord Eldon&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Again addressing</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>.] Show the gentleman the
+door. [<i>There is a pause.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>, <i>with a significant gesture,
+glances at the door.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Moving to the door, he examines it and returns to</i>
+<span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] Eh,&mdash;I admire the door, my boy! Fine, old carved
+mahogany panel; but don't ask me to leave by it, for Mrs.
+Karslake made me promise I'd come, and that's why I'm here.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>does not wait for further orders.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Sir, you are&mdash;impudent&mdash;!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Interrupting.</i>] Ah, you put it all in a nutshell,
+don't you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> To show your face here, after practically eloping with
+my wife!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Affecting ignorance.</i>] When were you married?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> We are as good as married.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, pooh, pooh! You can't tell me that grace
+before soup is as good as a dinner! [<i>He takes out his cigar-case
+and, in the absence of a match, enjoys a smokeless smoke.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Sir&mdash;I&mdash;demand&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Calmly carrying the situation.</i>] Mrs. Karslake
+is <i>not</i> married. <i>That's</i> why I'm here. I am here for the same
+purpose <i>you</i> are; to ask Mrs. Karslake to be my wife.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Are you in your senses?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Pricking his American cousin's pet vanity.</i>]
+Come, come, Judge&mdash;you Americans have no sense of humour.
+[<i>Taking a small jewel-case from his pocket.</i>] There's my regards for
+the lady&mdash;and [<i>Reasonably.</i>], if I must go, I will. Of course, I
+would like to see her, but&mdash;if it isn't your American custom&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>Opens the door and announces.</i>] Mr. Karslake.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_674" id="Page_674">[Pg 674]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, well, I say; if he can come, I can!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">John Karslake</span>, <i>in evening dress, comes in quickly, carrying a
+large and very smart bride's bouquet, which he hands to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>,
+<i>who stands transfixed. Because it never occurs to him to refuse it
+or chuck it away</i>, <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>accepts the bouquet gingerly, but frees
+himself of it at the first available moment.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>walks to the
+centre of the room. Deep down he is feeling wounded and unhappy.
+But, as he knows his coming to the ceremony on whatever
+pretext is a social outrage, he carries it off by assuming an air of
+its being the most natural thing in the world. He controls the
+expression of his deeper emotion, but the pressure of this keeps his
+face grave, and he speaks with effort.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> My compliments to the bride, Judge.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Angry.</i>] And you, too, have the effrontery?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> There you are!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Pretending ease.</i>] Oh, call it friendship&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>leaves.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Puts bouquet on table. Ironically.</i>] I suppose Mrs.
+Karslake&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> She wagered me I wouldn't give her away, and of
+course&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Throughout his stay</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>hides the emotions he will not show behind
+a daring irony. Under its effects</i>, <span class="smcap">Philip</span>, <i>on his right, walks about
+in a fury.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>, <i>sitting down on the edge of the table, is
+gay and undisturbed.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Taking a step toward</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] You will oblige me&mdash;both
+of you&mdash;by immediately leaving&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Smiling and going to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] Oh, come, come, Judge&mdash;suppose
+I <i>am</i> here? Who has a better right to attend his wife's
+obsequies! Certainly, I come as a mourner&mdash;for <i>you</i>!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> I say, is it the custom?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> No, no&mdash;of course it's not the custom, no. But we'll
+make it the custom. After all,&mdash;what's a divorced wife among
+friends?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Sir, your humour is strained!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Humour,&mdash;Judge?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> It is, sir, and I'll not be bantered! Your both being
+here is&mdash;it is&mdash;gentlemen, there is a decorum which the stars in
+their courses do not violate.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_675" id="Page_675">[Pg 675]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Now, Judge, never you mind what the stars do in their
+divorces! Get down to earth of the present day. Rufus Choate
+and Daniel Webster are dead. You must be modern. You must
+let peroration and poetry alone! Come along now. Why
+shouldn't I give the lady away?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Hear! Hear! Oh, I beg your pardon!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> And why shouldn't we both be here? American marriage
+is a new thing. We've got to strike the pace, and the only
+trouble is, Judge, that the judiciary have so messed the thing up
+that a man can't be sure he <i>is</i> married until he's divorced. It's a
+sort of marry-go-round, to be sure! But let it go at that! Here
+we all are, and we're ready to marry my wife to you, and start
+her on her way to him!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Brought to a standstill.</i>] Good Lord! Sir, you cannot
+trifle with monogamy!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Now, now, Judge, monogamy is just as extinct as knee-breeches.
+The new woman has a new idea, and the new idea is&mdash;well,
+it's just the opposite of the old Mormon one. Their idea is
+one man, ten wives and a hundred children. Our idea is one
+woman, a hundred husbands and one child.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Sir, this is polyandry.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Polyandry? A hundred to one it's polyandry; and
+that's it, Judge! Uncle Sam has established consecutive polyandry,&mdash;but
+there's got to be an interval between husbands! The
+fact is, Judge, the modern American marriage is like a wire fence.
+The woman's the wire&mdash;the posts are the husbands. [<i>He indicates
+himself, and then</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] One&mdash;two&mdash;three!
+And if you cast your eye over the future you can count
+them, post after post, up hill, down dale, all the way to Dakota!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> All very amusing, sir, but the fact remains&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Going to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>who at once moves away.</i>] Now, now,
+Judge, I like you. But you're asleep; you're living in the dark
+ages. You want to call up Central. "Hello, Central! Give me
+the present time, 1906, New York!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Of course you do, and&mdash;there you are!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Heavily.</i>] There I am not, sir! And&mdash; [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] as
+for Mr. Karslake's ill-timed jocosity,&mdash;sir, in the future&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, hang the future!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> I begin to hope, Sir Wilfrid, that in the future I shall
+have the pleasure of hanging you! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] And as to you,
+sir, your insensate idea of giving away your own&mdash;your former&mdash;my&mdash;your&mdash;oh!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_676" id="Page_676">[Pg 676]</a></span>
+Good Lord! This is a nightmare! [<i>He turns to
+go in despair.</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>, <i>coming in, meets him, and stops him at
+the door.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] My dear brother, Aunt Sarah
+Heneage refuses to give Mrs. Karslake away, unless you yourself,&mdash;eh&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>As he goes out.</i>] No more! I'll attend to the matter!
+[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Choir Boys</span> <i>are heard practising in the next room.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Mopping his brow.</i>] How do you both do? My
+aunt has made me very warm. [<i>Ringing the bell.</i>] You hear our
+choir practising&mdash;sweet angel boys! H'm! H'm! Some of the
+family will not be present. I am very fond of you, Mr. Karslake,
+and I think it admirably Christian of you to have waived
+your&mdash;eh&mdash;your&mdash;eh&mdash;that is, now that I look at it more narrowly, let
+me say, that in the excitement of pleasurable anticipation, I forgot,
+Karslake, that your presence might occasion remark&mdash; [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span>
+<i>responds to his ring.</i>] Thomas! I left, in the hall, a
+small hand-bag or satchel containing my surplice.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> Yes, sir. Ahem!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> You must really find the hand-bag at once.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>turns to go, when he stops startled.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> Yes, sir. [<i>Announcing in consternation.</i>] Mrs. Vida
+Phillimore. [<span class="smcap">Vida Phillimore</span>, <i>in full evening dress, steps gently
+up to</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Always piously serene.</i>] Ah, my dear child! Now
+this is just as it should be! That is, eh&mdash; [<i>He walks to the centre
+of the room with her</i>, <span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>the while, pointedly disregarding</i> <span class="smcap">Sir
+Wilfrid</span>.] That is, when I come to think of it&mdash;your presence
+might be deemed inauspicious.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> But, my dear Matthew,&mdash;I had to come. [<i>Aside to him.</i>]
+I have a reason for being here.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span>, <i>who has left the room, again appears.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>With a helpless gesture.</i>] But, my dear child&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>With sympathetic intention.</i>] Sir, Mr. Phillimore
+wishes to have your assistance, sir&mdash;with Miss Heneage <i>immediately</i>!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> Ah! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] One moment! I'll return. [<i>To</i>
+<span class="smcap">Thomas</span>.] Have you found the bag with my surplice?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>He goes out with</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>, <i>speaking.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>moves at
+once to</i> <span class="smcap">Vida. John</span>, <i>moving to a better position, watches
+the door.</i></p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_677" id="Page_677">[Pg 677]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] You're just the person I most want
+to see!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With affected iciness.</i>] Oh, no, Sir Wilfrid, Cynthia
+isn't here yet! [<i>She moves to the table, and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>his eyes on the
+door, coming toward her, she speaks to him with obvious sweetness.</i>]
+Jack, dear, I never was so ravished to see any one.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Taken aback.</i>] By Jove!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Very sweet.</i>] I knew I should find you here!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Annoyed but civil.</i>] Now don't do that!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Sweeter than ever.</i>] Jack!      [<i>They sit down.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Civil but plain spoken.</i>] Don't do it!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>In a voice dripping with honey.</i>] Do what, Jack?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Touch me with your voice! I have troubles enough of
+my own.      [<i>He sits not far from her; the table between them.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> And I know who your troubles are! Cynthia!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>From this moment</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>abandons</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>as an object of the chase
+and works him into her other game.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> I hate her. I don't know why I came.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> You came, dear, because you couldn't stay away&mdash;you're
+in love with her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> All right, Vida, what I feel may be <i>love</i>&mdash;but all I can
+say is, if I could get even with Cynthia Karslake&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> You can, dear&mdash;it's as easy as powdering one's face;
+all you have to do is to be too nice to me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Looking at her inquiringly.</i>] Eh!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Don't you realize she's jealous of you? Why did she
+come to my house this morning? She's jealous&mdash;and all you
+have to do&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> If I can make her wince, I'll make love to you till the
+Heavenly cows come home!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Well, you see, my dear, if you make love to me it will
+[<i>Delicately indicating</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>.] cut both ways at once!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Eh,&mdash;what! Not Cates-Darby? [<i>Starting.</i>] Is that
+Cynthia?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Now don't get rattled and forget to make love to me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> I've got the jumps. [<i>Trying to follow her instructions.</i>]
+Vida, I adore you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Oh, you must be more convincing; that won't do at all.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Listening.</i>] Is that she now?</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>comes in and passes to the inner room.</i></span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_678" id="Page_678">[Pg 678]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> It's Matthew. And, Jack, dear, you'd best get the
+hang of it before Cynthia comes. You might tell me all about
+your divorce. That's a sympathetic subject. Were you able to
+undermine it?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> No. I've got a wire from my lawyer this morning.
+The divorce holds. She's a free woman. She can marry whom
+she likes. [<i>The organ is heard, very softly played.</i>] Is that
+Cynthia?      [<i>He rises quickly.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> It's the organ!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Overwhelmingly excited.</i>] By George! I should never
+have come! I think I'll go.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He makes a movement toward the door.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Rises and follows him remonstratingly.</i>] When I need
+you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> I can't stand it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Oh, but, Jack&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Good-night!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> I feel quite ill. [<i>Seeing that she must play her last card
+to keep him, pretends to faintness; sways and falls into his arms.</i>]
+Oh!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>In a rage, but beaten.</i>] I believe you're putting up a
+fake.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>The organ swells as</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>enters sweepingly, dressed in full
+evening dress for the wedding ceremony.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>not knowing what
+to do, keeps his arms about</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>as a horrid necessity.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Speaking as she comes in, to</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>.] Here I
+am. Ridiculous to make it a conventional thing, you know.
+Come in on the swell of the music, and all that, just as if I'd never
+been married before. Where's Philip? [<i>She looks for</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>and
+sees</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>with</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>in his arms. She stops short.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Uneasy and embarrassed.</i>] A glass of water! I beg
+your pardon, Mrs. Karslake&mdash;      [<i>The organ plays on.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Ironical and calm.</i>] Vida!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> She has fainted.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Cynically.</i>] Fainted? [<i>Without pausing.</i>] Dear,
+dear, dear, terrible! So she has. [<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>takes the flowers
+from a vase and prepares to sprinkle</i> <span class="smcap">Vida's</span> <i>forehead with the water
+it contains.</i>] No, no, not her forehead, Sir Wilfrid, her frock!
+Sprinkle her best Paquin! If it's a real faint, she will not
+come to!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_679" id="Page_679">[Pg 679]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Coming quickly to her senses as her Paris importation is
+about to suffer.</i>] I almost fainted.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Almost!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Using the stock phrase as a matter of course, and reviving
+rapidly.</i>] Where am I? [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>glances at</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>sharply.</i>] Oh,
+the bride! I beg every one's pardon. Cynthia, at a crisis like this,
+I simply couldn't stay away from Philip!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Stay away from Philip?      [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>exchange glances.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Your arm, Jack; and lead me where there is air.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>go into the further room. The organ stops.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir
+Wilfrid</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>are practically alone in the room.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>
+<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>are barely within sight. He is first seen to take her
+fan and give her air; then to pick up a book and read to her.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> I've come back.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>.] Asks for air and goes to the
+greenhouse. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>crosses the room and</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>offers
+her a seat.</i>] I know why you are here. It's that intoxicating
+little whim you suppose me to have for you. My regrets! But
+the whim's gone flat! Yes, yes, my gasoline days are over. I'm
+going to be garaged for good. However, I'm glad you're here;
+you take the edge off&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Mr. Phillimore?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Sharply.</i>] No, Karslake. I'm just waiting to say
+the words [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>comes in unnoticed.</i>] "love, honour and obey"
+to Phillimore&mdash; [<i>Looking back.</i>] and <i>at</i> Karslake! [<i>Seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>.]
+What is it? Mr. Phillimore?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> Mr. Phillimore will be down in a few minutes, ma'am.
+He's very sorry, ma'am [<i>Lowering his voice and coming nearer to</i>
+<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>mindful of the respectabilities</i>], but there's a button off
+his waistcoat.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Rising. With irony.</i>] Button off his waistcoat!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>goes out.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Delightedly.</i>] Ah! So much the better for me.
+[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>looks into the other room.</i>] Now, then, never mind those
+two! [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>moves restlessly.</i>] Sit down.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I can't.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> You're as nervous as&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Nervous! Of course I'm nervous! So would you be
+nervous if you'd had a runaway and smash up, and you were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_680" id="Page_680">[Pg 680]</a></span>
+going to try it again. [<i>She is unable to take her eyes from</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>and</i>
+<span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>, <i>noting this, grows uneasy.</i>] And if some
+one doesn't do away with those calla lilies&mdash;the odor makes me
+faint! [<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>moves.</i>] No, it's not the lilies! It's the
+orange blossoms!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Orange blossoms.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> The flowers that grow on the tree that hangs over
+the abyss! [<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>promptly confiscates the vase of orange
+blossoms.</i>] They smell of six o'clock in the evening. When
+Philip's fallen asleep, and little boys are crying the winners outside,
+and I'm crying inside, and dying inside and outside and
+everywhere.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Returning to her side.</i>] Sorry to disappoint you.
+They're artificial. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>shrugs her shoulders.</i>] That's it!
+They're emblematic of artificial domesticity! And I'm here to
+help you balk it. [<i>He sits down and</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>half rises and looks
+toward</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] Keep still now, I've a lot to say to you.
+Stop looking&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Do you think I can listen to you make love to me
+when the man who&mdash;who&mdash;whom I most despise in all the world,
+is reading poetry to the woman who&mdash;who got me into the fix
+I'm in!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Leaning over her chair.</i>] What do you want to
+look at 'em for? [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>moves.</i>] Let 'em be and listen to me!
+Sit down; for damme, I'm determined.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Now at the table and half to herself.</i>] I won't look
+at them! I won't think of them. Beasts! [<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>interposes
+between her and her view of</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>. <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>opens the door
+and walks in.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Now, then&mdash;      [<i>He sits down.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Those two <i>here</i>! It's just as if Adam and Eve
+should invite the snake to their golden wedding. [<i>Seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>.]
+What is it, what's the matter?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> Mr. Phillimore's excuses, ma'am. In a very short
+time&mdash;      [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>goes out.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> I'm on to you! You hoped for more buttons!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I'm dying of the heat; fan me.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>fans</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Heat! No! You're dying because you're
+ignorin' nature. Certainly you are! You're marryin' Phillimore!
+[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>appears faint.</i>] Can't ignore nature, Mrs. Karslake.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_681" id="Page_681">[Pg 681]</a></span>
+Yes, you are; you're forcin' your feelin's. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>glances at
+him.</i>] And what you want to do is to let yourself go a bit&mdash;up
+anchor and sit tight! I'm no seaman, but that's the idea!
+[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>moves and shakes her head.</i>] So just throw the reins on
+nature's neck, jump this fellow Phillimore and marry me!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He leans toward</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Naturally, but with irritation.</i>] You propose to me
+here, at a moment like this? When I'm on the last lap&mdash;just in
+sight of the goal&mdash;the gallows&mdash;the halter&mdash;the altar, I don't
+know what its name is! No, I won't have you! [<i>Looking toward</i>
+<span class="smcap">Karslake</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] And I won't have you stand near me! I
+won't have you talking to me in a low tone! [<i>Her eyes glued on</i>
+<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] Stand over there&mdash;stand where you are.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> I say&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I can hear you&mdash;I'm listening!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Well, don't look so hurried and worried. You've
+got buttons and buttons of time. And now my offer. You
+haven't yet said you would&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Marry you? I don't even know you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Feeling sure of being accepted.</i>] Oh,&mdash;tell you all
+about myself. I'm no duke in a pickle o' debts, d'ye see? I can
+marry where I like. Some o' my countrymen are rotters, ye know.
+They'd marry a monkey, if poppa-up-the-tree had a corner in
+cocoanuts! And they do marry some queer ones, y' know.
+[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>looks beyond him, exclaims and turns.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>turns.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Do they?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, rather. That's what's giving your heiresses
+such a bad name lately. If a fellah's in debt he can't pick and
+choose, and then he swears that American gals are awfully fine
+lookers, but they're no good when it comes to continuin' the
+race! Fair dolls in the drawin'-room, but no good in the nursery.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Thinking of</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>and nothing else.</i>] I can
+see Vida in the nursery.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> You understand when you want a brood mare,
+you don't choose a Kentucky mule.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I think I see one.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Well, that's what they're saying over there.
+They say your gals run to talk [<i>He plainly remembers</i> <span class="smcap">Vida's</span>
+<i>volubility.</i>] and I have seen gals here that would chat life into a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_682" id="Page_682">[Pg 682]</a></span>
+wooden Indian! That's what you Americans call being clever.&mdash;All
+brains and no stuffin'! In fact, some of your American gals
+are the nicest boys I ever met.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> So that's what you think?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Not a bit what <i>I</i> think&mdash;what my countrymen
+think!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Why are you telling me?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, just explaining my character. I'm the sort
+that can pick and choose&mdash;and what I want is heart.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>ever in mind.</i>] No more heart than
+a dragon-fly!      [<i>The organ begins to play softly.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> That's it, dragon-fly. Cold as stone and never
+stops buzzing about and showin' off her colours. It's that American
+dragon-fly girl that I'm afraid of, because, d'ye see, I don't
+know what an American expects when he marries; yes, but
+you're not listening!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I am listening. I am!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Speaking directly to her.</i>] An Englishman, ye
+see, when he marries expects three things: love, obedience, and
+five children.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Three things! I make it seven!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Yes, my dear, but the point is, will you be
+mistress of Traynham?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Who has only half listened to him.</i>] No, Sir Wilfrid,
+thank you, I won't. [<i>She turns to see</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>walk across the
+drawing-room with</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>and apparently absorbed in what she is
+saying.</i>] It's outrageous!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Eh? Why you're cryin'?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Almost sobbing.</i>] I am not.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> You're not crying because you're in love with
+me?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I'm not crying&mdash;or if I am, I'm crying because I
+love my country. It's a disgrace to America&mdash;cast-off husbands
+and wives getting together in a parlour and playing tag under a
+palm-tree. [<span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>with intention and determined to stab</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>,
+<i>kisses</i> <span class="smcap">Vida's</span> <i>hand.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Eh! Oh! I'm damned! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] What
+do you think that means?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I don't doubt it means a wedding here, at once&mdash;after
+mine! [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>leave the drawing-room and walk
+slowly toward them.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_683" id="Page_683">[Pg 683]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Affecting an impossible intimacy to wound</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>and
+tantalize</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>.] Hush, Jack&mdash;I'd much rather no one
+should know anything about it until it's all over!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Starting and looking at</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>.] What did I
+tell you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Oh, my dear, he's asked me to champagne
+and lobster at <i>your</i> house&mdash;his house! Matthew is
+coming! [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>starts, but controls herself.</i>] And you're to
+come, Sir Wilfrid. [<i>Intending to convey the idea of a sudden
+marriage ceremony.</i>] Of course, my dear, I would like to wait for your
+wedding, but something rather&mdash;rather important to me is to
+take place, and I know you'll excuse me.      [<i>The organ stops.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Piqued at being forgotten.</i>] All very neat, but
+you haven't given me a chance, even.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Chance? You're not serious?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> I am!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Striking while the iron is hot.</i>] I'll give you a minute
+to offer yourself.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Eh?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Sixty seconds from now.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Uncertain.</i>] There's such a thing as bein' silly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Calm and determined.</i>] Fifty seconds left.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> I take you&mdash;count fair. [<i>He hands her his watch
+and goes to where</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>stands.</i>] I say, Mrs. Karslake&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Overwhelmed with grief and emotion.</i>] They're
+engaged; they're going to be married to-night, over champagne
+and lobster at my house!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Will you consider your&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Hastily, to get rid of him.</i>] No, no, no, no! Thank
+you, Sir Wilfrid, I will not.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Calm, and not to be laid low.</i>] Thanks awfully.
+[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>walks away. Returning to</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] Mrs. Phillimore&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Returning his watch.</i>] Too late! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Karslake</span>.]
+Jack, dear, we must be off.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Standing and making a general appeal for information.</i>]
+I say, is it the custom for American girls&mdash;that sixty
+seconds or too late? Look here! Not a bit too late. I'll take
+you around to Jack Karslake's, and I'm going to ask you the
+same old question again, you know. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] By Jove, you
+know in your country it's the pace that kills.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>follows</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>out the door.</i></span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_684" id="Page_684">[Pg 684]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Gravely to</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>who has walked away.</i>] Good-night,
+Mrs. Karslake, I'm going; I'm sorry I came.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Sorry? Why are you sorry? [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>looks at her;
+she winces a little.</i>] You've got what you wanted. [<i>After a
+pause.</i>] I wouldn't mind your marrying Vida&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Gravely.</i>] Oh, wouldn't you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> But I don't think you showed good taste in engaging
+yourselves <i>here</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Of course, I should have preferred a garden of roses and
+plenty of twilight.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Rushing into speech.</i>] I'll tell you what you <i>have</i>
+done&mdash;you've thrown yourself away! A woman like that! No
+head, no heart! All languor and loose&mdash;loose frocks&mdash;she's the
+typical, worst thing America can do! She's the regular American
+marriage worm!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> I have known others&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Quickly.</i>] Not me. I'm not a patch on that
+woman. Do you know anything about her life? Do you know
+the things she did to Philip? Kept him up every night of his
+life&mdash;forty days out of every thirty&mdash;and then, without his
+knowing it, put brandy in his coffee to make him lively at
+breakfast.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Banteringly.</i>] I begin to think she is just the
+woman&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Unable to quiet her jealousy.</i>] She is <i>not</i> the woman
+for <i>you</i>! A man with your bad temper&mdash;your airs of authority&mdash;your
+assumption of&mdash;of&mdash;everything. What you need is a good,
+old-fashioned, bread-poultice woman!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>comes to a full stop and faces him.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Sharply.</i>] Can't say I've had any experience of the
+good old-fashioned bread-poultice.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I don't care what you say! If you marry Vida
+Phillimore&mdash;you sha'n't do it. [<i>Tears of rage choking her.</i>] No,
+I liked your father and, for <i>his</i> sake, I'll see that his son doesn't
+make a donkey of himself a second time.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Too angry to be amused.</i>] Oh, I thought I was divorced.
+I begin to feel as if I had you on my hands still.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You have! You shall have! If you attempt to
+marry her, I'll follow you&mdash;and I'll find her&mdash;I'll tell Vida&mdash; [<i>He
+turns to her.</i>] I will. I'll tell Vida just what sort of a dance
+you led me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_685" id="Page_685">[Pg 685]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Quickly on her last word but speaking gravely.</i>] Indeed!
+Will you? And why do you care what happens to me?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Startled by his tone.</i>] I&mdash;I&mdash;ah&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Insistently and with a faint hope.</i>] <i>Why</i> do you
+<i>care</i>?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I don't. Not in your sense&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> How dare you then pretend&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I don't pretend.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Interrupting her; proud, serious and strong.</i>] How dare
+you look me in the face with the eyes that I once kissed, and pretend
+the least regard for me? [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>recoils and looks away.
+Her own feelings are revealed to her clearly for the first time.</i>] I
+begin to understand our American women now. Fire-flies&mdash;and
+the fire they gleam with is so cold that a midge couldn't warm his
+heart at it, let alone a man. You're not of the same race as a
+man! You married me for nothing, divorced me for nothing,
+because you <i>are</i> nothing!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Wounded to the heart.</i>] Jack! What are you
+saying?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>With unrestrained emotion.</i>] What,&mdash;you feigning an
+interest in me, feigning a lie&mdash;and in five minutes&mdash; [<i>With a
+gesture, indicating the altar.</i>] Oh, you've taught me the trick of
+your sex&mdash;you're the woman who's not a woman!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Weakly.</i>] You're saying terrible things to me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Low and with intensity.</i>] You haven't been divorced
+from me long enough to forget&mdash;what you should be ashamed to
+remember.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Unable to face him and pretending not to understand
+him.</i>] I don't know what you mean?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>More forcibly and with manly emotion.</i>] You're not
+able to forget me! You know you're not able to forget me; ask
+yourself if you are able to forget me, and when your heart, such
+as it is, answers "no," then&mdash; [<i>The organ is plainly heard.</i>]
+Well, then, prance gaily up to the altar and marry that, if you
+can!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>He abruptly quits the room and</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>moving to an armchair,
+sinks into it, trembling.</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>comes in and is joined by</i>
+<span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>. <i>They do not see</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>buried
+deeply in her chair. Accordingly</i>, <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>moves over to
+the sofa and waits. They are all dressed for an evening reception
+and</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>is in the traditional bridegroom's rig.</i></p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_686" id="Page_686">[Pg 686]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>As he enters.</i>] I am sure you will do your part,
+Sarah&mdash;in a spirit of Christian decorum. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] It was
+impossible to find my surplice, Philip, but the more informal the
+better.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>With pompous responsibility.</i>] Where's Cynthia?</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>gives a glance around the room.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> Ah, here's the choir! [<i>He moves forward to meet it.</i>
+<span class="smcap">Choir Boys</span> <i>come in very orderly; divide and take their places, an
+even number on each side of the altar of flowers.</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>vaguely
+superintends.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>gets in the way of the bell and moves out of the
+way.</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>comes in.</i>] Thomas, I directed you&mdash;One
+moment, if you please. [<i>He indicates the tables and chairs which</i>
+<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>hastens to push against the wall.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Walking forward and looking around him.</i>] Where's
+Cynthia? [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>rises, and, at the movement</i>, <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>sees her
+and moves toward her. The organ grows suddenly silent.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Faintly.</i>] Here I am.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>comes down. Organ plays softly.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Ah, my very dear Cynthia, I knew
+there was something. Let me tell you the words of the hymn I
+have chosen:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Enduring love; sweet end of strife!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, bless this happy man and wife!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>I'm afraid you feel&mdash;eh&mdash;eh!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Desperately calm.</i>] I feel awfully queer&mdash;I think I
+need a scotch.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Organ stops.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>remains uneasily at a little distance.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs.
+Phillimore</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>enter back slowly, as cheerfully as if
+they were going to hear the funeral service read. They remain
+near the doorway.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> Really, my dear, in the pomp and vanity&mdash;I
+mean&mdash;ceremony of this&mdash;this unique occasion, there should be
+sufficient exhilaration.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With extraordinary control.</i>] But there isn't!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>Feeling weak, she sits down.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> I don't think my Bishop would approve of&mdash;eh&mdash;anything
+<i>before</i>!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Too agitated to know how much she is moved.</i>] I feel very queer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_687" id="Page_687">[Pg 687]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Piously sure that everything is for the best.</i>] My
+dear child&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> However, I suppose there's nothing for it&mdash;now&mdash;but&mdash;to&mdash;to&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> Courage!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Desperate and with a sudden explosion.</i>] Oh, don't
+speak to me. I feel as if I'd been eating gunpowder, and the very
+first word of the wedding service would set it off!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> My dear, your indisposition is the voice of nature.
+[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>speaks more rapidly and with growing excitement.</i>
+<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>makes a movement toward the</i> <span class="smcap">Choir Boys</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Ah,&mdash;that's it&mdash;nature! [<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>shakes his
+head.</i>] I've a great mind to throw the reins on nature's
+neck.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Matthew! [<i>He moves to take his stand for the
+ceremony.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Looks at</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>. <i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Philip is ready.
+[<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>comes forward and the organ plays the wedding
+march.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>To herself, as if at bay.</i>] Ready? Ready? Ready?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> Cynthia, you will take Miss Heneage's arm.
+[<span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>moves stiffly nearer to the table.</i>] Sarah! [<i>He
+waves</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>in the direction of</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>at which she
+advances a joyless step or two.</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>goes over to give the
+choir a low direction.</i>] Now please don't forget, my boys. When
+I raise my hands so, you begin, "Enduring love, sweet end of
+strife," etc. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>has risen. On the table by which she stands
+is her long lace cloak.</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>assumes sacerdotal importance
+and takes his position inside the altar of flowers.</i>] Ahem! Philip!
+[<i>He signs to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>to take his position.</i>] Sarah! [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>
+<i>breathes fast, and supports herself against the table.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>,
+<i>with the silent air of a martyr, goes toward her and stands for a
+moment looking at her.</i>] The ceremony will now begin.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>The organ plays Mendelssohn's wedding march.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>turns
+and faces</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>. <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>slowly reaches</i>
+<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>and extends her hand in her readiness to lead the bride
+to the altar.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Mrs. Karslake!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Ahem! [<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>walks forward two or three steps.</i>
+<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>stands as if turned to stone.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_688" id="Page_688">[Pg 688]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> My dear Cynthia. I request you&mdash;to take your
+place. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>moves one or two steps as if to go up to the altar.
+She takes</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage's</span> <i>hand and slowly they walk toward</i>
+<span class="smcap">Matthew</span>.] Your husband to be&mdash;is ready, the ring is in my
+pocket. I have only to ask you the&mdash;eh&mdash;necessary questions,&mdash;and&mdash;eh&mdash;all
+will be blissfully over in a moment.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>The organ grows louder.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>At this moment, just as she reaches</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>, <i>stops,
+faces round, looks him</i>, <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>, <i>and the rest in the face, and cries
+out in despair.</i>] Thomas! Call a hansom! [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>goes out,
+leaving the door open.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>crosses the room quickly</i>;
+<span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>, <i>shocked into action, rises.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>catches up
+her cloak from the table.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>turns and</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>comes forward
+and stops.</i>] I can't, Philip&mdash;I can't. [<i>Whistle of hansom is heard
+off; the organ stops.</i>] It is simply a case of throwing the reins on
+nature's neck&mdash;up anchor&mdash;and sit tight! [<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>moves to</i>
+<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Matthew, don't come near me! Yes, yes, I distrust
+you. It's your business, and you'd marry me if you could.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Watching her in dismay as she throws on her cloak.</i>]
+Where are you going?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I'm going to Jack.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> What for?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> To stop his marrying Vida. I'm blowing a hurricane
+inside, a horrible, happy hurricane! I know myself&mdash;I
+know what's the matter with me. If I married you and Miss
+Heneage&mdash;what's the use of talking about it&mdash;he mustn't marry
+that woman. He sha'n't. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>has now all her wraps on
+and walks toward the door rapidly. To</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] Sorry! So long!
+Good-night and see you later.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Reaching the door, she goes out in blind haste and without further
+ceremony.</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>, <i>in absolute amazement, throws up his
+arms.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>is rigid.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>sinks into a chair.</i>
+<span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>stands supercilious and unmoved.</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span>, <i>the
+same. The choir, at <span class="smcap">Matthew's</span> gesture, mistakes it for the concerted
+signal, and bursts lustily into the Epithalamis:</i></p></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Enduring love&mdash;sweet end of strife!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, bless this happy man and wife!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center">
+<span class="smcap">Curtain.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_689" id="Page_689">[Pg 689]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="ACT_IV" id="ACT_IV"></a>ACT IV.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Scene.</span> <i>The scene is laid in</i> <span class="smcap">John Karslake's</span> <i>study and smoking-room.
+There is a bay window on the left. A door on the left leads
+to stairs and the front of the house, while a door at the back leads
+to the dining-room. A fireplace and a mantel are on the right. A
+bookcase contains law and sporting books. On the wall is a full-length
+portrait of</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>. <i>Nothing of this portrait is seen by
+audience except the gilt frame and a space of canvas. A large
+table with writing materials is littered over with law books, sporting
+books, papers, pipes, crops, a pair of spurs, &amp;c. A wedding ring
+lies on it. There are three very low easy-chairs. The general
+appearance of the room is extremely gay and garish in colour. It
+has the easy confusion of a man's room. There is a small table
+on which, lying open, is a woman's sewing-basket, and, beside it, a
+piece of rich fancy work, as if a lady had just risen from sewing.
+Laid on the further end of it are a lady's gloves. On a chair-back
+is a lady's hat. It is a half hour later than the close of Act III.
+Curtains are drawn over the window. A lamp on the table is
+lighted, as are, too, the various electric lights. One chair is conspicuously
+standing on its head.</i></p></div>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Nogam</span> <i>is busy at the larger table. The door into the dining-room
+is half open.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Coming in from the dining-room.</i>] Eh&mdash;what
+did you say your name was?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> Nogam, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Nogam? I've been here thirty minutes. Where
+are the cigars? [<span class="smcap">Nogam</span> <i>motions to a small table near the entrance
+door.</i>] Thank you. Nogam, Mr. Karslake was to have followed
+us here, immediately. [<i>He lights a cigar.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> Mr. Karslake just now 'phoned from his club [<span class="smcap">Sir
+Wilfrid</span> <i>walks toward the front of the room.</i>], and he's on his way
+home, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Nogam, why is that chair upside down?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> Our orders, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Speaking as she comes in.</i>] Oh, Wilfrid! [<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>
+<i>turns.</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>coming slowly toward him.</i>] I can't be left longer
+alone with the lobster! He reminds me too much of Phillimore!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Karslake's coming; stopped at his club on the
+way! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Nogam</span>.] You haven't heard anything of Mrs. Karslake&mdash;?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_690" id="Page_690">[Pg 690]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> [<i>Surprised.</i>] No, sir!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>In an aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>as they move right to appear
+to be out of</i> <span class="smcap">Nogam's</span> <i>hearing.</i>] Deucedly odd, ye know&mdash;for the
+Reverend Matthew declared she left Phillimore's house before
+<i>he</i> did,&mdash;and she told them she was coming here!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Nogam</span> <i>evidently takes this in.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Oh, she'll turn up.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Yes, but I don't see how the Reverend Phillimore
+had the time to get here and make us man and wife, don't y' know&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Oh, Matthew had a fast horse and Cynthia a slow one&mdash;or
+she's a woman and changed her mind! Perhaps she's gone
+back and married Phillimore. And besides, dear, Matthew
+wasn't in the house four minutes and a half; only just long
+enough to hoop the hoop. [<i>She twirls her new wedding ring gently
+about her finger.</i>] Wasn't it lucky he had a ring in his
+pocket?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Rather.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> And are you aware, dear, that Phillimore bought and
+intended it for Cynthia? Do come [<i>Going toward the door through
+which she has just entered.</i>], I'm desperately hungry! Whenever
+I'm married that's the effect it has! [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>goes out and</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>,
+<i>following, stops to talk to</i> <span class="smcap">Nogam</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> We'll give Mr. Karslake ten minutes, Nogam.
+If he does not come then, you might serve supper.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He joins</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>.] Yes, sir. [<i>The outside door opens and</i> <span class="smcap">Fiddler</span> <i>walks in.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> [<i>Easy and business-like.</i>] Hello, Nogam, where's
+the guv'nor? That mare's off her oats, and I've got to see him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> He'll soon be here.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Who was the parson I met leaving the house?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> [<i>Whispering.</i>] Sir Wilfrid and Mrs. Phillimore have
+a date with the guv'nor in the dining-room, and the reverend
+gentleman&mdash; [<i>He makes a gesture as of giving an ecclesiastical
+blessing.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> [<i>Amazed.</i>] He hasn't spliced them? [<span class="smcap">Nogam</span>
+<i>assents.</i>] He has? They're married? Never saw a parson could
+resist it!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> Yes, but I've got another piece of news for you. Who
+do you think the Rev. Phillimore expected to find <i>here</i>?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_691" id="Page_691">[Pg 691]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> [<i>Proud of having the knowledge.</i>] Mrs. Karslake? I
+saw her headed this way in a hansom with a balky horse only a
+minute ago. If she hoped to be in at the finish&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[Fiddler <i>is about to set the chair on its legs.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> [<i>Quickly.</i>] Mr. Fiddler, sir, please to let it alone.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> [<i>Putting the chair down in surprise.</i>] Does it live on
+its blooming head?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> Don't you remember? <i>She</i> threw it on its head when
+she left here, and he won't have it up. Ah, that's it&mdash;hat, sewing-basket
+and all,&mdash;the whole rig is to remain as it was when she
+handed him his knock-out.      [<i>A bell rings outside.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> There's the guv'nor&mdash;I hear him!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> I'll serve the supper. [<i>Taking a letter from his pocket
+and putting it on the mantel.</i>] Mr. Fiddler, would you mind giving
+this to the guv'nor? It's from his lawyer&mdash;his lawyer couldn't
+find him and left it with me. He said it was very important.
+[<i>The bell rings again. Speaking from the door to</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>.]
+I'm coming, sir!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Nogam</span> <i>goes out, shutting the door.</i> <span class="smcap">John Karslake</span> <i>comes in.
+His hat is pushed over his eyes; his hands are buried in his
+pockets, and his appearance generally is one of weariness and
+utter discouragement. He walks into the room slowly and heavily.
+He sees</i> <span class="smcap">Fiddler</span>, <i>who salutes, forgetting the letter.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>
+<i>slowly sinks into the arm-chair near his study table.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>As he walks to his chair.</i>] Hello, Fiddler! [<i>After a
+pause,</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>throws himself into a chair, keeping his hat on. He
+throws down his gloves, sighing.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Came in to see you, sir, about Cynthia K.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Drearily.</i>] Damn Cynthia K!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Couldn't have a word with you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Grumpy.</i>] No!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Yes, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Fiddler.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Yes, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Mrs. Karslake&mdash; [<span class="smcap">Fiddler</span> <i>nods.</i>] You used to say
+she was our mascot?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Yes, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, she's just married herself to a&mdash;a sort of a man&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Sorry to hear it, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, Fiddler, between you and me, we're a pair of idiots.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_692" id="Page_692">[Pg 692]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Yes, sir!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> And now it's too late!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Yes, sir&mdash;oh, beg your pardon, sir&mdash;your lawyer
+left a letter. [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>takes letter; opens it and reads it, indifferently
+at first.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>As he opens the letter.</i>] What's he got to say, more than
+what his wire said?&mdash;Eh&mdash; [<i>Dumbfounded as he reads.</i>] what?&mdash;Will
+explain.&mdash;Error in wording of telegram.&mdash;Call me up.&mdash; [<i>Turning
+quickly to the telephone.</i>] The man can't mean that she's
+still&mdash;Hello! Hello!      [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>listens.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Would like to have a word with you, sir&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Hello, Central!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> That mare&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Consulting the letter, and speaking into the 'phone.</i>]
+33246a 38! Did you get it?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> That mare, sir, she's got a touch of malaria&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>At the 'phone.</i>] Hello, Central&mdash;33246a&mdash;38!&mdash;Clayton
+Osgood&mdash;yes, yes, and say, Central&mdash;get a move on you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> If you think well of it, sir, I'll give her a
+tonic&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Still at the 'phone.</i>] Hello! Yes&mdash;yes&mdash;Jack Karslake.
+Is that you, Clayton? Yes&mdash;yes&mdash;well&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Or if you like, sir, I'll give her&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Turning on</i> <span class="smcap">Fiddler</span>.] Shut up! [<i>To 'phone.</i>] What
+was that? Not you&mdash;not you&mdash;a technical error? You mean to
+say that Mrs. Karslake is still&mdash;my&mdash;Hold the wire, Central&mdash;get
+off the wire! Get off the wire! Is that you, Clayton?
+Yes, yes&mdash;she and I are still&mdash;I got it! Good-bye! [<i>He
+hangs up the receiver; falls back into a chair. For a moment he is
+overcome. He takes up telephone book.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> All very well, Mr. Karslake, but I must know if I'm
+to give her&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Turning over the leaves of the telephone book in hot
+haste.</i>] What's Phillimore's number?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> If you've no objections, I think I'll give her a&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> L&mdash;M&mdash;N&mdash;O&mdash;P&mdash;It's too late! She's married
+by this! Married!&mdash;and&mdash;my God&mdash;I&mdash;I am the cause. Phillimore&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> I'll give her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_693" id="Page_693">[Pg 693]</a></span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Give her wheatina!&mdash;give her grape-nuts&mdash;give her
+away! [<span class="smcap">Fiddler</span>, <i>biding his time, walks toward the window.</i>]
+Only be quiet! Phillimore!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>comes in.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Hello! We'd almost given you up!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>In his agitation unable to find</i> Phillimore's <i>number.</i>]
+Just a moment! I'm trying to get Phillimore on the 'phone
+to&mdash;to tell Mrs. Karslake&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> No good, my boy&mdash;she's on her way here!
+[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>drops the book and looks up dumbfounded.</i>] The Reverend
+Matthew was here, y' see&mdash;and he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Rising, turns.</i>] Mrs. Karslake is coming here? [<span class="smcap">Sir
+Wilfrid</span> <i>nods.</i>] To this house? Here?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> That's right.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Coming here? You're sure? [<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>nods assent.</i>]
+Fiddler, I want you to stay here, and if Mrs. Karslake
+comes, don't fail to let me know! Now then, for heaven's
+sake, what did Matthew say to you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Come along in and I'll tell you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> On your life now, Fiddler, don't fail to let me&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>carries</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>off with him.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>From the dining-room.</i>] Ah, here you are!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Phew!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>A moment's pause, and</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>opens the front door, and comes
+in very quietly, almost shyly, as if she were uncertain of her welcome.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Fiddler! Where is he? Has he come? Is he
+here? Has he gone?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> [<i>Rattled.</i>] Nobody's gone, ma'am, except the Reverend
+Matthew Phillimore.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Matthew? He's been here and gone? [<span class="smcap">Fiddler</span>
+<i>nods assent.</i>] You don't mean I'm too late? He's married
+them already?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Nogam says he married them!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> He's married them! Married! Married before I
+could get here! [<i>Sinking into an armchair.</i>] Married in less
+time than it takes to pray for rain! Oh, well, the church&mdash;the
+church is a regular quick marriage counter. [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>
+<i>are heard in light-hearted laughter.</i>] Oh!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> I'll tell Mr. Karslake<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_694" id="Page_694">[Pg 694]</a></span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Rising and going to the dining-room door,
+turns the key in the lock and takes it out.</i>] No&mdash;I wouldn't see
+him for the world! [<i>Moving to the work-table with the key.</i>]
+If I'm too late, I'm too late! and that's the end of it! [<i>Laying
+the key on the table, she remains standing near it.</i>] I've come,
+and now I'll go! [<i>There is a long pause during which</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>
+<i>looks slowly about the room, then sighs and changes her tone.</i>]
+Well, Fiddler, it's all a good deal as it used to be in my day.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> No, ma'am&mdash;everything changed, even the horses.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Absent-mindedly.</i>] Horses&mdash;how are the horses?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Throughout her talk with</i> Fiddler <i>she gives the idea that she is
+saying good-bye to her life with</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Ah, when husband and wife splits, ma'am, it's
+the horses that suffer. Oh, yes, ma'am, we're all changed since
+you give us the go-by,&mdash;even the guv'nor.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> How's he changed?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Lost his sharp for horses, and ladies, ma'am&mdash;gives
+'em both the boiled eye.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I can't say I see any change; there's my portrait&mdash;I
+suppose he sits and pulls faces at me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Yes, ma'am, I think I'd better tell him of your bein' here.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Gently but decidedly.</i>] No, Fiddler, no! [<i>Again
+looking about her.</i>] The room's in a terrible state of disorder.
+However, your new mistress will attend to that. [<i>Pause.</i>] Why,
+that's not her hat!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Yours, ma'am.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Mine? [<i>Walking to the table to look at it.</i>] Is that
+my work-basket? [<i>After a pause.</i>] My gloves? [<span class="smcap">Fiddler</span>
+<i>assents.</i>] And I suppose&mdash; [<i>Hurriedly going to the writing-table.</i>]
+My&mdash;yes, there it is: my wedding ring!&mdash;just where I
+dropped it! Oh, oh, oh, he keeps it like this&mdash;hat, gloves,
+basket and ring, everything just as it was that crazy, mad day
+when I&mdash; [<i>She glances at</i> <span class="smcap">Fiddler</span> <i>and breaks off.</i>] But for
+heaven's sake, Fiddler, set that chair on its feet!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Against orders, ma'am.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Against orders?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> You kicked it over, ma'am, the day you left us.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> No wonder he hates me with the chair in that state!
+He nurses his wrath to keep it warm. So, after all, Fiddler,
+everything <i>is</i> changed, and that chair is the proof of it. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_695" id="Page_695">[Pg 695]</a></span>
+suppose Cynthia K is the only thing in the world that cares a
+whinney whether I'm alive or dead. [<i>She breaks down and sobs.</i>]
+How is she, Fiddler?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Off her oats, ma'am, this evening.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Off her oats! Well, she loves me, so I suppose she
+will die, or change, or&mdash;or something. Oh, she'll die, there's no
+doubt about that&mdash;she'll die. [<span class="smcap">Fiddler</span>, <i>who has been watching
+his chance, takes the key off the table while she is sobbing, tiptoes
+up stage, unlocks the door and goes out. After he has done so</i>,
+<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>rises and dries her eyes.</i>] There&mdash;I'm a fool&mdash;I must go&mdash;before&mdash;before&mdash;he&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>As she speaks her last word</i>, <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>comes in swiftly.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Mrs. Karslake!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Confused.</i>] I&mdash;I&mdash;I just heard Cynthia K was ill&mdash; [<span class="smcap">John</span>
+<i>assents.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>tries to put on a cheerful and indifferent
+manner.</i>] I&mdash;I ran round&mdash;I&mdash;and&mdash;and&mdash; [<i>Pausing,
+she turns and takes a few steps.</i>] Well, I understand it's all over.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Cheerfully.</i>] Yes, it's all over.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> How is the bride?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh, she's a wonder.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Indeed! Did she paw the ground like the war-horse
+in the Bible? I'm sure when Vida sees a wedding ring she
+smells the battle afar off. As for you, my dear Karslake, I
+should have thought once bitten, twice shy! But, you know best.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>unable to keep her finger long out of a pie, saunters in.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Oh, Cynthia, I've just been through it again, and I
+feel as if I were eighteen. There's no use talking about it, my
+dear, with a woman it's never the second time! And how nice
+you were, Jack,&mdash;he never even laughed at us! [<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>
+<i>follows her with hat and cane.</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>kisses</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] That's the
+wages of virtue!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>In time to see her kiss</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] I say, is it the
+custom? Every time she does that, my boy, you owe me a
+thousand pounds. [<i>Seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>who approaches them, he
+looks at her and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>in turn.</i>] Mrs. Karslake. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] And
+then you say it's not an extraordinary country!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>is more and more puzzled.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] See you next Derby, Jack! [<i>Walking to
+the door. To</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>.] Come along, Wilfrid! We really
+ought to be going. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] I hope, dear, you haven't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_696" id="Page_696">[Pg 696]</a></span>
+married him! Phillimore's a tomb! Good-bye, Cynthia&mdash;I'm
+so happy! [<i>As she goes.</i>] Just think of the silly people, dear,
+that only have this sensation once in a lifetime!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>follows</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>out the door.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Good-bye, Mrs. Karslake.
+And I say, ye know, if you have married that dull old Phillimore
+fellah, why, when you've divorced him, come over and stay at
+Traynham! I mean, of course, ye know, bring your new husband.
+There'll be lots o' horses to show you, and a whole covey
+of jolly little Cates-Darbys. Mind you come! [<i>With real
+delicacy of feeling and forgetting his wife.</i>] Never liked a woman as
+much in my life as I did you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Outside; calling him.</i>] Wilfrid, dear!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Loyal to the woman who has caught him.</i>] &mdash;except
+the one that's calling me!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">John</span> <i>returns, and</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>, <i>nodding to him, goes out.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>
+<i>shuts the door and crosses the room. There is a pause.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> So you're not married?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> No. But I know that you imagined I was.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>After a pause.</i>] I suppose you think a woman has
+no right to divorce a man&mdash;and still continue to feel a keen interest
+in his affairs?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, I'm not so sure about that, but I don't quite see
+how&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> A woman can be divorced&mdash;and still&mdash; [<span class="smcap">John</span>
+<i>assents; she hides her embarrassment.</i>] Well, my dear Karslake,
+you've a long life before you, in which to learn how such a state
+of mind is possible! So I won't stop to explain. Will you be
+kind enough to get me a cab?                [<i>She moves to the door.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Certainly. I was going to say I am not surprised at
+your feeling an interest in me. I'm only astonished that, having
+actually married Phillimore, you come here&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Indignantly.</i>] I'm not married to him!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Silent for a moment.</i>] I left you on the brink&mdash;made
+me feel a little uncertain.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>In a matter of course tone.</i>] I changed my mind&mdash;that's all.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Taking his tone from her.</i>] Of course. [<i>After an interval.</i>]
+Are you going to marry him?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I don't know.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_697" id="Page_697">[Pg 697]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Does he know you&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I told him I was coming here.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh! He'll turn up here, then&mdash;eh? [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>is
+silent.</i>] And you'll go back with him, I suppose?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Talking at random.</i>] Oh&mdash;yes&mdash;I suppose so. I&mdash;I
+haven't thought much about it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Changing his tone.</i>] Well, sit down; do. Till he
+comes&mdash;talk it over. [<i>He places the armchair more comfortably
+for her.</i>] This is a more comfortable chair!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Shamefacedly.</i>] You never liked me to sit in that one!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh, well&mdash;it's different now. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>moves and sits
+down, near the upset chair. There is a long pause, during which</i>
+<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>thoughtfully paces the room.</i>] You don't mind if I smoke?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Shaking her head.</i>] No.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Lighting his pipe and sitting down on the arm of a chair.</i>]
+Of course, if you find my presence painful, I'll&mdash;skiddoo.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>He indicates the door.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>shakes her head.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>smokes
+his pipe and remains seated.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Suddenly and quickly.</i>] It's just simply a fact,
+Karslake, and that's all there is to it&mdash;if a woman has once been
+married&mdash;that is, the first man she marries&mdash;then&mdash;she may
+quarrel, she may hate him&mdash;she may despise him&mdash;but she'll
+always be jealous of him with other women. Always! [<span class="smcap">John</span>
+<i>takes this as if he were simply glad to have the information.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh&mdash;H'm! ah&mdash;yes&mdash;yes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>After a pause.</i>] You probably felt jealous of Phillimore.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Reasonably, sweetly, and in doubt.</i>] N-o! [<i>Apologetically.</i>]
+I felt simply: Let him take his medicine.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> I beg your pardon&mdash;I meant&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You meant what you said!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Moving a step toward her.</i>] Mrs. Karslake; I apologize&mdash;I
+won't do it again. But it's too late for you to be out alone&mdash;Philip
+will be here in a moment&mdash;and of course, then&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> It isn't what you <i>say</i>&mdash;it's&mdash;it's&mdash;it's everything.
+It's the entire situation. Suppose by any chance I don't marry
+Phillimore! And suppose I were seen at two or three in the
+morning leaving my former husband's house! It's all wrong. I
+have no business to be here! I'm going! You're perfectly horrid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_698" id="Page_698">[Pg 698]</a></span>
+to me, you know&mdash;and&mdash;the whole place&mdash;it's so familiar, and
+so&mdash;so associated with&mdash;with&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Discord and misery&mdash;I know&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Not at all with discord and misery! With harmony
+and happiness&mdash;with&mdash;with first love, and infinite hope&mdash;and&mdash;and&mdash;Jack
+Karslake,&mdash;if you don't set that chair on its legs, I
+think I'll explode. [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>crosses the room rapidly, and sets the
+chair on its legs. His tone changes.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>While setting chair on its legs.</i>] There! I beg your pardon.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Nervously.</i>] I believe I hear Philip. [<i>She rises.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Going up to the window.</i>] N-o! That's the policeman
+trying the front door! And now, see here, Mrs. Karslake,&mdash;you're
+only here for a short minute, because you can't help yourself,
+but I want you to understand that I'm not trying to be
+disagreeable&mdash;I don't want to revive all the old unhappy&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Very well, if you don't&mdash;give me my hat. [<span class="smcap">John</span>
+<i>does so.</i>] And my sewing! And my gloves, please! [<i>She indicates
+the several articles which lie on the small table.</i>] Thanks!
+[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>throws the lot into the fireplace, and returns to the place
+she has left near table.</i>] There! I feel better! And now&mdash;all I ask is&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Laughing.</i>] My stars, what a pleasure it is!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> What is?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Seeing you in a whirlwind!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Wounded by his seeming indifference.</i>] Oh!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> No, but I mean, a real pleasure! Why not? Time's
+passed since you and I were together&mdash;and&mdash;eh&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> And you've forgotten what a vile temper I had!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Reflectively.</i>] Well, you did kick the stuffing out of the
+matrimonial buggy&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Pointedly but with good temper.</i>] It wasn't a buggy;
+it was a break cart&mdash; [<i>She stands back of the arm-chair.</i>] It's
+all very well to blame me! But when you married me, I'd never
+had a bit in my mouth!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, I guess I had a pretty hard hand. Do you
+remember the time you threw both your slippers out of the window?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Yes, and do you remember the time you took my
+fan from me by force?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> After you slapped my face with it!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_699" id="Page_699">[Pg 699]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh, oh! I hardly touched your face! And do you
+remember the day you held my wrists?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> You were going to bite me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Jack! I never! I showed my teeth at you! And I
+<i>said</i> I would bite you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Cynthia, I never knew you to break your word! [<i>He
+laughs. Casually.</i>] And anyhow&mdash;they were awfully pretty
+teeth! [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>though bolt upright, has ceased to seem pained.</i>]
+And I say&mdash;do you remember, Cyn&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He leans over her armchair to talk.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>After a pause.</i>] You oughtn't to call me "Cyn"&mdash;it's
+not nice of you. It's sort of cruel. I'm not&mdash;Cyn to you
+now.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Awfully sorry; didn't mean to be beastly, Cyn.
+[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>turns quickly.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>stamps his foot.</i>] Cynthia! Sorry.
+I'll make it a commandment: thou shalt not Cyn!!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>laughs and wipes her eyes.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> How can you, Jack? How can you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, hang it, my dear child, I&mdash;I'm sorry, but you
+know I always got foolish with you. Your laugh'd make a horse
+laugh. Why, don't you remember that morning in the park
+before breakfast&mdash;when you laughed so hard your horse ran
+away with you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I do, I do! [<i>Both laugh. The door opens and</i>
+<span class="smcap">Nogam</span> <i>comes in, unnoticed by either.</i>] But what was it started me
+laughing? [<i>Laughing, she sits down and laughs again.</i>] That
+morning. Wasn't it somebody we met? [<i>Laughing afresh.</i>]
+Wasn't it a man on a horse? [<i>As her memory pieces the picture, she
+again goes off into laughter.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Laughing too.</i>] Of course! You didn't know him in
+those days! But I did! And he looked a sight in the saddle!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Nogam</span>, <i>trying to catch their attention, moves toward the table.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Who was it?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Phillimore!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> He's no laughing matter now. [<i>Seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Nogam</span>.]
+Jack, he's here!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Eh? Oh, Nogam?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> Mr. Phillimore, sir&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> In the house?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> On the street in a hansom, sir&mdash;and he requests Mrs.
+Karslake<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_700" id="Page_700">[Pg 700]</a></span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> That'll do, Nogam. [<span class="smcap">Nogam</span> <i>goes out and there is a
+pause.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>on his way to the window, looks at</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>who
+has slowly risen and turned her back to him.</i>] Well, Cynthia?</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He speaks almost gravely and with finality.</i>]</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Trembling.</i>] Well?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> It's the hour of decision; are you going to marry him?
+[<i>Pause.</i>] Speak up!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Jack,&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> There he is&mdash;you can join him. [<i>He points to the street.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Join Phillimore&mdash;and go home&mdash;with him&mdash;to his
+house, and Miss Heneage and&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> The door's open.      [<i>He points to the door.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> No, no! It's mean of you to suggest it!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> You won't marry&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Phillimore&mdash;no; never. [<i>Running to the window.</i>]
+No; never, never, Jack.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Opening the window and calling out.</i>] It's all right,
+Judge. You needn't wait.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>There is a pause.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>leaves the window and bursts into laughter.
+He moves toward the door and closes it.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>looks dazed.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Jack! [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>laughs.</i>] Yes, but I'm here, Jack.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Why not?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You'll have to take me round to the Holland House!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Of course, I will! But, I say, Cynthia, there's no hurry.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Why, I&mdash;I&mdash;can't stay here.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> No, of course you can't stay here. But you can have a
+bite, though. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>shakes her head.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>places the small
+chair, which was upset, next to the table, and the armchair close by.</i>]
+Oh, I insist. Just look at yourself&mdash;you're as pale as a sheet and&mdash;here,
+here. Sit right down. I insist! By George, you must
+do it! [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>moves to the chair drawn up to the table, and sits
+down.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Faintly.</i>] I <i>am</i> hungry.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Just wait a moment.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>rushes out, leaving the door open.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I don't want more than a nibble! [<i>After a pause.</i>]
+I am sorry to give you so much trouble.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> No trouble at all. [<i>From the dining-room comes the
+cheerful noise of glasses and silver.</i>] A hansom, of course, to take
+you round to your hotel? [<i>Speaking as he returns with a tray.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_701" id="Page_701">[Pg 701]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>To herself.</i>] I wonder how I ever dreamed I could
+marry that man.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Now by the table.</i>] Can't imagine! There!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I am hungry. Don't forget the hansom.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She eats; he waits on her, setting this and that before her.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Goes to the door, opens it and calls.</i>] Nogam, a hansom at once.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> [<i>From without.</i>] Yes, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Again at the table, shows, and from now on continues
+to show, his true feelings for her.</i>] How does it go?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Faintly.</i>] It goes all right. Thanks!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>Hardly eating at all.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> You always used to like anchovy. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>nods and
+eats.</i>] Claret? [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>shakes her head.</i>] Oh, but you must!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Tremulously.</i>] Ever so little. [<i>He fills her glass and
+then his.</i>] Thanks!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Here's to old times!      [<i>Raising his glass.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Very tremulous.</i>] Please not!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, here's to your next husband.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Very tenderly.</i>] Don't!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh, well, then, what shall the toast be?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I'll tell you&mdash; [<i>After a pause.</i>] you can drink to the
+relation I am to you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Laughing.</i>] Well&mdash;what relation are you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I'm your first wife once removed!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Laughing, drinks.</i>] I say, you're feeling better.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Lots.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Reminiscent.</i>] It's a good deal like those mornings
+after the races&mdash;isn't it?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Nods.</i>] Yes. [<i>Half-rising.</i>] Is that the hansom?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Going up to the window.</i>] No.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Sitting down again.</i>] What is that sound?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Don't you remember?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> No.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> That's the rumbling of the early milk wagons.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh, Jack.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Do you recognize it now?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Do I? We used to hear that&mdash;just at the hour,
+didn't we&mdash;when we came back from awfully jolly late suppers and things!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> H'm!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_702" id="Page_702">[Pg 702]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> It must be fearfully late. I must go.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>She rises and moves to the chair where she has left her cloak. She
+sees that</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>will not help her and puts it on herself.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh, don't go&mdash;why go?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Embarrassed and agitated.</i>] All good things come to
+an end, you know.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> They don't need to.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh, you don't mean that! And, you know, Jack,
+if I were caught&mdash;seen at this hour, leaving this house, you know&mdash;it's
+the most scandalous thing any one ever did, my being here
+at all. Good-bye, Jack! [<i>After a pause and almost in tears.</i>] I'd
+like to say, I&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;well, I sha'n't be bitter about you hereafter,
+and&mdash; [<i>Halting.</i>] Thank you awfully, old man, for the fodder
+and all that!      [<i>She turns to go out.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Mrs. Karslake&mdash;wait&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Stopping to hear.</i>] Well?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Serious.</i>] I've rather an ugly bit of news for you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Yes?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> I don't believe you know that I have been testing the
+validity of the decree of divorce which you procured.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh, have you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Yes; you know I felt pretty warmly about it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Well?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, I've been successful. [<i>After a pause.</i>] The
+decree's been declared invalid. Understand?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Looking at him for a moment; then speaking.</i>]
+Not&mdash;precisely.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>After a moment's silence.</i>] I'm awfully sorry&mdash;I'm
+awfully sorry, Cynthia, but, you're my wife still.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>There is a pause.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With rapture.</i>] Honour bright?</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She sinks into the armchair.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Nods. Half laughingly.</i>] Crazy country, isn't it?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Nods. After an interval.</i>] Well, Jack&mdash;what's to
+be done?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Gently.</i>] Whatever you say.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He moves a few steps toward her.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> [<i>Quietly coming in.</i>] Hansom, sir.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He goes out and</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>rises.</i></span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_703" id="Page_703">[Pg 703]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Why don't you finish your supper?</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>hesitates.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> The&mdash;the&mdash;hansom&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Why go to the Holland? After all&mdash;you know, Cyn,
+you're at home here.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> No, Jack, I'm not&mdash;I'm not at home here&mdash;unless&mdash;unless&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Out with it!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Bursting into tears.</i>] Unless I&mdash;unless I'm at home
+in your heart, Jack!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> What do you think?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I don't believe you want me to stay.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Don't you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> No, no, you hate me still. You never can forgive
+me. I know you can't. For I can never forgive myself. Never,
+Jack, never, never!</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She sobs and he takes her in his arms.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Very tenderly.</i>] Cyn! I love you! [<i>Strongly.</i>] And
+you've got to stay! And hereafter you can chuck chairs around
+till all's blue! Not a word now.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He draws her gently to a chair.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Wiping her tears.</i>] Oh, Jack! Jack!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> I'm as hungry as a shark. We'll nibble together.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Well, all I can say is, I feel that of all the improprieties
+I ever committed this&mdash;this&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> This takes the claret, eh? Oh, Lord, how happy I am!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Now don't say that! You'll make me cry more.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>She wipes her eyes.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>takes out the wedding ring from his
+pocket; he lifts a wine-glass, drops the ring into it and offers her
+the glass.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Cynthia!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Looking at it and wiping her eyes.</i>] What is it?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Benedictine!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Why, you know I never take it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Take this one for my sake.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> That's not benedictine. [<i>With gentle curiosity.</i>]
+What is it?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Slides the ring out of the glass and puts his arm about</i>
+<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>. <i>He slips the ring on to her finger and, as he kisses her
+hand, says</i>:] Your wedding ring!</p>
+
+
+<p class="center">
+<span class="smcap">Curtain.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<h4>Transcriber's Notes</h4>
+
+<p>Page 614: Phillmore changed to Phillimore.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(<span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Thomas, Mr. Phillmore's sherry?)</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>gives the list to</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillmore</span> <i>and moves away.</i>)</span><br />
+<br />
+Page 654: entremely changed to extremely.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">([<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>looks entremely dark and angry;</i>)</span><br />
+<br />
+Page 679: nad changed to and.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(<span class="smcap">Wilfrid</span> <i>nad</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>are practically alone)</i></span><br />
+<br />
+Page 685: tradional changed to traditional.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>(in the tradional bridegroom's rig.)</i></span><br />
+<br />
+Page 691: couldn'. changed to couldn't<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>(his lawyer couldn'. find him)</i></span><br />
+<br />
+Page 691: importantt changed to important.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>(He said it was very importantt)</i></span><br />
+<br /></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Representative Plays by American
+Dramatists: 1856-1911: The New York Idea, by Langdon Mitchell
+
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@@ -0,0 +1,5933 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Representative Plays by American
+Dramatists: 1856-1911: The New York Idea, by Langdon Mitchell
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Representative Plays by American Dramatists: 1856-1911: The New York Idea
+
+Author: Langdon Mitchell
+
+Editor: Montrose J. Moses
+
+Release Date: May 23, 2008 [EBook #25565]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REPRESENTATIVE PLAYS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Starner, Diane Monico, and The Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW YORK IDEA
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: LANGDON MITCHELL]
+
+
+
+
+LANGDON MITCHELL
+
+(Born Philadelphia, Pa., February 17, 1862)
+
+
+The performance of "The New York Idea" at the Lyric Theatre, New York,
+on November 19, 1906, was one of the rare, distinguished events in the
+American Theatre. It revealed the fact that at last an American
+playwright had written a drama comparable with the very best European
+models, scintillating with clear, cold brilliancy, whose dialogue
+carried with it an exceptional literary style. It was a play that
+showed a vitality which will serve to keep it alive for many
+generations, which will make it welcome, however often it is revived;
+for there is a universal import to its satire which raises it above
+the local, social condition it purports to portray. And though there
+is nothing of an ideal character about its situations, though it seems
+to be all head, with a minimum of apparent heart, it none the less is
+universal in the sense that Restoration comedy is universal. It
+presents a type of vulgarity, of sporting spirit, that is common in
+every generation, whether in the time of Congreve and Wycherley,
+whether in the period of Sheridan or Oscar Wilde. Its wit is not
+dependent on local colour, though ostensibly it is written about New
+York. On its first presentment, it challenged good writing on the part
+of the critics. High Comedy always does that--tickles the brain and
+stimulates it, drives it at a pace not usually to be had in the
+theatre. Is it comedy or is it farce, the critics queried? Is Mr.
+Mitchell sincere, and does he flay the evil he so photographically
+portrays? Does he treat the sacred subject of matrimony too
+flippantly? And should the play, in order to be effective, have a
+moral tag, or should it be, what on the surface it appears to be, a
+series of realistic scenes about people whom one cannot admire and
+does not want to know intimately? Some of the writers found the
+picture not to their liking--that is the effect good satire sometimes
+has when it strikes home. Yet when Grace George revived "The New York
+Idea" in a spirit so different from Mrs. Fiske's, nine years after, on
+September 28, 1915, at the Playhouse, New York, the _Times_ was bound
+to make the following confession: "A vast array of American authors
+have turned out plays innumerable, but not one of them has quite
+matched in sparkling gayety and wit this work of Langdon Mitchell's.
+And the passing years have left its satire still pointed. They have
+not dimmed its polish nor so much as scratched its smart veneer."
+
+The play was written expressly for Mrs. Fiske. Its hard, sharp
+interplay of humour was knowingly cut to suit her hard, sharp method
+of acting. Her interpretation was a triumph of head over heart. Grace
+George tried to read into _Cynthia Karslake_ an element of romance
+which is suggested in the text, but which was somewhat
+over-sentimentalized by her soft portrayal. There is some element of
+relationship between "The New York Idea" and Henry Arthur Jones' "Mary
+Goes First;" there is the same free air of sporting life, so
+graphically set forth in "Lord and Lady Algy." But the American play
+is greater than these because of its impersonal strain.
+
+In a letter to the present Editor, Mr. Mitchell has broken silence
+regarding the writing of "The New York Idea." Never before has he
+tried to analyze its evolution. He says:
+
+    The play was written for Mrs. Fiske. The choice of subject
+    was mine. I demanded complete freedom in the treatment, and
+    my most wise manager, Mr. Harrison Grey Fiske, accorded this.
+    The play was produced and played as written, with the
+    exception of one or two short scenes, which were not
+    acceptable to Mrs. Fiske; that is, she felt, or would have
+    felt, somewhat strained or unnatural in these scenes.
+    Accordingly, I cut them out, or rather rewrote them. The
+    temperament of the race-horse has to be considered--much
+    more, that of the 'star'.
+
+    When I was writing the play, I had really no idea of
+    satirizing divorce or a law or anything specially
+    temperamental or local. What I wanted to satirize was a
+    certain extreme frivolity in the American spirit and in our
+    American life--frivolity in the deep sense--not just a girl's
+    frivolity, but that profound, sterile, amazing frivolity
+    which one observes and meets in our churches, in political
+    life, in literature, in music; in short, in every department
+    of American thought, feeling and action. The old-fashioned,
+    high-bred family in "The New York Idea" are solemnly
+    frivolous, and the fast, light-minded, highly intelligent
+    hero and heroine are frivolous in their own delightful
+    way--frivolity, of course, to be used for tragedy or comedy.
+    Our frivolity is, I feel, on the edge of the tragic. Indeed,
+    I think it entirely tragic, and there are lines, comedy
+    lines, in "The New York Idea," that indicate this aspect of
+    the thing.
+
+    Of course, there is more than merely satire or frivolity in
+    the play: there is the Englishman who appears to Americans to
+    be stupid on account of his manner, but who is frightfully
+    intelligent; and there are also the energy and life and vigor
+    of the two men characters. There is, too, throughout the
+    play, the conscious humour of these two characters, and of
+    the third woman, _Vida_. The clergyman is really more
+    frivolous often and far less conscious of his
+    frivolity--enough, that I rather thought one of the strongest
+    things about the play was the consciousness of their own
+    humour, of the three important characters.
+
+    The characters were selected from that especial class, or
+    set, in our Society, whose ancestors and traditions go back
+    to colonial times. They are not merely _society_ characters,
+    for, of course, people in society may lack all traditions. I
+    mention this merely because my selection of characters from
+    such a set of people gives the play a certain mellowness and
+    a certain air which it otherwise would not have. If _Jack_
+    and _Cynthia_ were both completely self-made, or the son and
+    daughter of powerful, self-made people, their tone could not
+    be the same.
+
+    The piece was played in England as a farce; and it was given
+    without the permission of the author or American manager. It
+    was given for a considerable number of performances in
+    Berlin, after the Great War began. In the German translation
+    it was called "Jonathan's Daughter."[A] Our relations with
+    Germany at the time were strained on account of 'certain
+    happenings', but, notwithstanding, the play was
+    extraordinarily well received.
+
+When "The New York Idea" was first published by the Walter Baker Co.,
+of Boston, it carried as an introduction a notice of the play written
+by William Archer, and originally published in the London _Tribune_ of
+May 27, 1907. This critique follows the present foreword, as its use
+in the early edition represents Mr. Mitchell's choice.
+
+The writing of "The New York Idea" was not Mr. Mitchell's first
+dramatic work for Mrs. Fiske. At the New York Fifth Avenue Theatre, on
+September 12, 1899, she appeared in "Becky Sharp," his successful
+version of Thackeray's "Vanity Fair," which held the stage for some
+time, and was later revived with considerable renewal of its former
+interest. Two years after, rival versions were presented in London,
+one by David Balsillie (Theatre Royal, Croydon, June 24, 1901) and the
+other by Robert Hichens and Cosmo Gordon Lennox (Prince of Wales's
+Theatre, August 27, 1901)--the latter play used during the existence
+of the New Theatre (New York). Most of Mr. Mitchell's attempts in
+play-writing have been in dramatization, first of his father's "The
+Adventures of Francois," and later of Thackeray's "Pendennis,"
+Atlantic City, October 11, 1916. He was born February 17, 1862, at
+Philadelphia, the son of Silas Weir Mitchell, and received his
+education largely abroad. He studied law at Harvard and Columbia, and
+was admitted to the bar in 1882. He was married, in 1892, to Marion
+Lea, of London, whose name was connected with the early introduction
+of Ibsen to the English public; she was in the initial cast of "The
+New York Idea," and to her the play is dedicated.
+
+
+MR. WILLIAM ARCHER'S NOTICE OF
+"THE NEW YORK IDEA."
+
+    ... This play, too, I was unable to see, but I have read it
+    with extraordinary interest. It is a social satire so largely
+    conceived and so vigorously executed that it might take an
+    honourable place in any dramatic literature. We have nothing
+    quite like it on the latter-day English stage. In tone and
+    treatment it reminds one of Mr. Carton; but it is far broader
+    in conception and richer in detail than "Lord and Lady Algy"
+    or "Lady Huntworth's Experiment." In France, it might perhaps
+    be compared to "La Famille Benoiton" or "Le Monde ou l'on
+    s'ennuie," or better, perhaps, to a more recent, but now
+    almost forgotten satire of the 'nineties, "Paris
+    Fin-de-Siecle."
+
+    I find it very hard to classify "The New York Idea" under any
+    of the established rubrics. It is rather too extravagant to
+    rank as a comedy; it is much too serious in its purport, too
+    searching in its character-delineation and too thoughtful in
+    its wit, to be treated as a mere farce. Its title--not,
+    perhaps, a very happy one--is explained in this saying of one
+    of the characters: "Marry for whim and leave the rest to the
+    divorce court--that's the New York idea of marriage." And
+    again: "The modern American marriage is like a wire
+    fence--the woman's the wire--the posts are the husbands.
+    One--two--three! And if you cast your eye over the future,
+    you can count them, post after post, up hill, down dale, all
+    the way to Dakota."
+
+    Like all the plays, from Sardou's "Divorcons" onward, which
+    deal with a too facile system of divorce, this one shows a
+    discontented woman, who has broken up her home for a caprice,
+    suffering agonies of jealousy when her ex-husband proposes
+    to make use of the freedom she has given him, and returning
+    to him at last with the admission that their divorce was at
+    least "premature." In this central conception there is
+    nothing particularly original. It is the wealth of humourous
+    invention displayed in the details both of character and
+    situation that renders the play remarkable.
+
+    It is interesting to note, by the way, a return on Mr.
+    Mitchell's part to that convenient assumption of the
+    Restoration and eighteenth century comedy writers that any
+    one in holy orders could solemnize a legal marriage at any
+    time or place, without the slightest formality of banns,
+    witnesses, registration or anything of the sort. One gathers
+    that in New York the entrance to and the exit from the holy
+    estate of matrimony are equally prompt and easy; or that, as
+    one of the characters puts it, "the church is a regular
+    quick-marriage counter."
+
+    I presume there is some exaggeration in this, and that a
+    marriage cannot actually be celebrated at midnight, over a
+    champagne-and-lobster supper, by a clergyman who happened to
+    drop in. But there can be no doubt that whatever the social
+    merits or demerits of the system, facility of divorce and
+    remarriage is an immense boon to the dramatist. It places
+    within his reach an inexhaustible store of situations and
+    complications which are barred to the English playwright, to
+    whom divorce always means an ugly and painful scandal. The
+    moralist may insist that this ought always to be the case;
+    and indeed that is the implication which Mr. Mitchell, as a
+    moralist, conveys to us.
+
+    He sacrifices the system of divorce for every trivial flaw of
+    temper which prevails in the society he depicts; but he no
+    doubt realizes that his doctrine as a satirist is hostile to
+    his interest as a dramatist. Restrict the facilities of
+    divorce and you at once restrict the possibilities of
+    matrimonial comedy. Marriage becomes no longer a comic, but a
+    tragic institution.
+
+    In order to keep his theme entirely on the comic plane, Mr.
+    Mitchell has given no children to either of the two couples
+    whom he puts through such a fantastic quadrille. Law or no
+    law, the separation of its parents is always a tragedy to the
+    child; which is not to say, of course, that their remaining
+    together may not in some cases be the more tragic of the two
+    alternatives. Be this as it may, Mr. Mitchell has eluded the
+    issue.
+
+    Nor has he thereby falsified his problem, for his characters
+    belong to that class of society in which, as Mr. Dooley
+    points out, the multiplication of automobiles is preferred
+    to that of progeny. But he has not omitted to hint at the
+    problem of the children, and, as it were, confess his
+    deliberate avoidance of it. He does so in a touch of
+    exquisite irony. _John_ and _Cynthia Karslake_ are a couple
+    devoted, not to automobiles, but to horses. Even their common
+    passion for racing cannot keep them together; but their
+    divorce is so "premature," and leaves _John_ so restless and
+    dissatisfied, that he actually neglects the cares of the
+    stable. His favourite mare, Cynthia K, falls ill, and when
+    his trainer brings him the news he receives it with shocking
+    callousness. Then the trainer meets _Cynthia_ and complains
+    to her of her ex-husband's indifference. "Ah, ma'am," he
+    says, "when husband and wife splits, it's the horses that
+    suffers." I know not where to look for a speech of profounder
+    ironic implication. More superficial, but still a good
+    specimen of Mr. Mitchell's wit, is _William Sudley's_ remark
+    as to _John Karslake_: "Oh, yes, he comes of a very
+    respectable family, though I remember his father served a
+    term in the Senate."
+
+    Altogether "The New York Idea" is, from the intellectual
+    point of view, the most remarkable piece of work I have
+    encountered in America. It is probably too true to the
+    details of American life to have much success in England; but
+    the situation at the end of the third act could not fail to
+    bring down the house even here. It would take too long to
+    describe it in detail. Suffice it to say that just at the
+    point where _Cynthia Karslake_ dismisses her second
+    bridegroom, to return to her first, the choir assembled for
+    the marriage ceremony, mistaking a signal, bursts forth with
+    irresistibly ludicrous effect into "The Voice That Breathed
+    O'er Eden."[B]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote A: At the Kammerspiel Theatre, Berlin, under the direction
+of Max Reinhardt, October 7, 1916. There are translations in Danish,
+Swedish and Hungarian.]
+
+[Footnote B: _The Editor takes the occasion to express his thanks to
+Mr. William Archer for his kind permission to quote this analysis of
+the play._]
+
+
+
+
+LYRIC THEATRE
+
+REGINALD DeKOVEN,                      Proprietor
+SAM S. and LEE SHUBERT (Inc.),         Lessees and Managers
+
+
+NINTH AND LAST WEEK.
+BEGINNING MONDAY EVENING. JANUARY 14, 1907.
+Matinee Saturday.
+
+
+Under the Direction of HARRISON GREY FISKE
+
+MRS. FISKE
+
+--AND--
+
+THE MANHATTAN COMPANY
+
+Presenting a Play in Four Acts, Entitled
+
+THE NEW YORK IDEA
+
+BY LANGDON MITCHELL
+
+
+Cast of Characters.
+
+Philip Phillimore                                Charles Harbury
+Mrs. Phillimore, his mother                      Ida Vernon
+The Reverend Mathew Phillimore, his brother      Dudley Clinton
+Grace Phillimore, his sister                     Emily Stevens
+Miss Heneage, his aunt                           Blanche Weaver
+William Sudley, his cousin                       Dudley Digges
+Mrs. Vida Phillimore, his divorced wife          Marion Lea
+Brooks, her footman                              Frederick Kerby
+Benson, her maid                                 Belle Bohn
+Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby                          George Arliss
+John Karslake                                    John Mason
+Mrs. Cynthia Karslake, his divorced wife         Mrs. Fiske
+Nogam, his valet                                 James Morley
+Tim Fiddler                                      Robert V. Ferguson
+Thomas, the Phillimore's family servant          Richard Clarke
+
+
+ACT I--Drawing-Room in the Phillimore house. Washington Square.
+          _Wednesday afternoon, at five o'clock._
+
+ACT II--Mrs. Vida Phillimore's Boudoir. Fifth Avenue.
+          _Thursday morning at eleven._
+
+ACT III--Same as Act I.
+          _Thursday evening, at ten._
+
+ACT IV--John Karslake's House. Madison Avenue.
+          _Thursday, at midnight._
+
+Scene--New York                      Time--The Present.
+
+
+The production staged by Mr. and Mrs. Fiske.
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW YORK IDEA
+
+_A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS_
+
+By LANGDON MITCHELL
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY LANGDON MITCHELL
+
+
+[This play, copyrighted in 1907, 1908, and published originally by
+Walter H. Baker and Co., of Boston, Mass., is fully protected and the
+right of representation is reserved. Application for the right of
+performing this play may be made to Alice Kauser, 1402 Broadway, New
+York, N. Y. The Editor takes this opportunity of thanking Mr. Langdon
+Mitchell for his great interest in the compilation of this Collection,
+and for his permission to have "The New York Idea" used in it. The
+complete revision of the stage directions, especially for this volume,
+makes it possible to regard the play, here printed, as the only
+authentic version.]
+
+
+
+
+THE PEOPLE.
+
+
+PHILIP PHILLIMORE, _a Judge on the bench, age 50_.
+GRACE PHILLIMORE, _his sister, age 20_.
+MRS. PHILLIMORE, _his mother, age 70_.
+MISS HENEAGE, _his aunt, age 60_.
+MATTHEW PHILLIMORE, _his brother--a bishop, age 45_.
+WILLIAM SUDLEY, _his cousin, age 50_.
+MRS. VIDA PHILLIMORE, _his divorced wife, age 35_.
+SIR WILFRID CATES-DARBY.
+JOHN KARSLAKE, _lawyer, politician and racing-man, age 35_.
+MRS. CYNTHIA KARSLAKE, _his divorced wife, age 25_.
+BROOKS, MRS. PHILLIMORE'S _footman_.
+TIM FIDDLER, MR. KARSLAKE'S _trainer_.
+NOGAM, _his valet_.
+THOMAS, _the family servant of the_ PHILLIMORES, _age 45_.
+BENSON, MRS. VIDA PHILLIMORE'S _maid, age 20_.
+
+
+The following is the Cast for the evening performance at the Lyric
+Theatre, New York, Monday, November 19, 1906.
+
+PHILIP PHILLIMORE                               Charles Harbury.
+MRS. PHILLIMORE, _his mother_                   Ida Vernon.
+THE REVEREND MATTHEW PHILLIMORE, _his brother_  Dudley Clinton.
+GRACE PHILLIMORE, _his sister_                  Emily Stevens.
+MISS HENEAGE, _his aunt_                        Blanche Weaver.
+WILLIAM SUDLEY, _his cousin_                    William B. Mack.
+MRS. VIDA PHILLIMORE, _his divorced wife_       Marion Lea.
+BROOKS, _her footman_                           George Harcourt.
+BENSON, _her maid_                              Belle Bohn.
+SIR WILFRID CATES-DARBY                         George Arliss.
+JOHN KARSLAKE                                   John Mason.
+MRS. CYNTHIA KARSLAKE, _his divorced wife_      Mrs. Fiske.
+NOGAM, _his valet_                              Dudley Digges.
+TIM FIDDLER                                     Robert V. Ferguson.
+THOMAS, THE PHILLIMORE'S _family servant_       Richard Clarke.
+
+Scene--New York.                                Time--The Present.
+
+
+Revived in New York at The Playhouse, Tuesday Evening, September 28,
+1915, with the following Cast.
+
+PHILIP PHILLIMORE                               Lumsden Hare.
+GRACE PHILLIMORE                                Norah Lamison.
+MRS. PHILLIMORE                                 Eugenie Woodward.
+MISS HENEAGE                                    Josephine Lovett.
+MATTHEW PHILLIMORE                              Albert Reed.
+WILLIAM SUDLEY                                  John Cromwell.
+MRS. VIDA PHILLIMORE                            Mary Nash.
+SIR WILFRID CATES-DARBY                         Ernest Lawford.
+JOHN KARSLAKE                                   Conway Tearle.
+MRS. CYNTHIA KARSLAKE                           Grace George.
+BROOKS                                          Selwyn Joyce.
+TIM FIDDLER                                     Tracy Barrow.
+NOGAM                                           G. Guthrie McClintic.
+THOMAS                                          Richard Clarke.
+BENSON                                          Anita Wood.
+
+
+_To Marion Lea_
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW YORK IDEA
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+    SCENE. _Living-room in the house of_ PHILIP PHILLIMORE.
+    _Five_ P. M. _of an afternoon of May. The general air and
+    appearance of the room is that of an old-fashioned, decorous,
+    comfortable interior. There are no electric lights and no
+    electric bells. Two bell ropes as in old-fashioned houses.
+    The room is in dark tones inclining to sombre and of
+    old-fashioned elegance._
+
+    _Seated in the room are_ MISS HENEAGE, MRS. PHILLIMORE _and_
+    THOMAS. MISS HENEAGE _is a solidly built, narrow-minded woman
+    in her sixties. She makes no effort to look younger than she
+    is, and is expensively but quietly dressed, with heavy
+    elegance. She commands her household and her family
+    connection, and on the strength of a large and steady income
+    feels that her opinion has its value._ MRS. PHILLIMORE _is a
+    semi-professional invalid, refined and unintelligent. Her
+    movements are weak and fatigued. Her voice is habitually
+    plaintive and she is entirely a lady without a trace of being
+    a woman of fashion._ THOMAS _is an easy-mannered, but
+    respectful family servant, un-English both in style and
+    appearance. He has no deportment worthy of being so called,
+    and takes an evident interest in the affairs of the family he
+    serves._
+
+    MISS HENEAGE _is seated at the tea-table, facing the
+    footlights._ MRS. PHILLIMORE _is seated at the table on the
+    right._ THOMAS _stands near by. Tea things on table. Decanter
+    of sherry in coaster. Bread and butter on plate. Vase with
+    flowers. Silver match-box. Large old-fashioned tea urn. Guard
+    for flame. "The Evening Post" on tea-table._ MISS HENEAGE
+    _and_ MRS. PHILLIMORE _both have cups of tea._ MISS HENEAGE
+    _sits up very straight, and pours tea for_ GRACE, _who enters
+    from door. She is a pretty and fashionably dressed girl of
+    twenty. She speaks superciliously, coolly, and not too fast.
+    She sits on the sofa gracefully and without lounging. She
+    wears a gown suitable for spring visiting, hat, parasol, and
+    gloves._
+
+
+GRACE. [_As she moves to the sofa._] I never in my life walked so far
+and found so few people at home. [_Pauses. Takes off gloves. Somewhat
+querulously._] The fact is the nineteenth of May is ridiculously late
+to be in town.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Thomas, Mr. Phillimore's sherry?
+
+THOMAS. [_Indicating the particular table._] The sherry, ma'am.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Mr. Phillimore's _Post_?
+
+THOMAS. [_Pointing to "The Evening Post" on the tea-table._] The
+_Post_, ma'am.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Indicating cup._] Miss Phillimore.
+
+THOMAS _takes cup of tea to_ GRACE. _Silence. They all sip tea._
+THOMAS _goes back, fills sherry glass, remaining round and about the
+tea-table. They all drink tea during their entire conversation._
+
+GRACE. The Dudleys were at home. They wished to know when my brother
+Philip was to be married, and where and how?
+
+MISS HENEAGE. If the Dudleys were persons of breeding, they'd not
+intrude their curiosity upon you.
+
+GRACE. I like Lena Dudley.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Speaking slowly and gently._] Do I know Miss
+Dudley?
+
+GRACE. She knows Philip. She expects an announcement of the wedding.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. I trust you told her that my son, my sister and
+myself are all of the opinion that those who have been divorced should
+remarry with modesty and without parade.
+
+GRACE. I told the Dudleys Philip's wedding was here, to-morrow.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_To_ MRS. PHILLIMORE, _picking up a sheet of paper from
+the table._] I have spent the afternoon, Mary, in arranging and
+listing the wedding gifts, and in writing out the announcements of the
+wedding. I think I have attained a proper form of announcement.
+[_Taking the sheet of note-paper and giving it to_ THOMAS.] Of course
+the announcement Philip himself made was quite out of the question.
+[GRACE _smiles._] However, there is mine. [_She points to the paper._
+THOMAS _gives the list to_ MRS. PHILLIMORE _and moves away._
+
+GRACE. I hope you'll send an announcement to the Dudleys.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Prepared to make the best of things, plaintively
+reads._] "Mr. Philip Phillimore and Mrs. Cynthia Dean Karslake
+announce their marriage, May twentieth, at three o'clock, Nineteen A,
+Washington Square, New York." [_Replacing the paper on_ THOMAS'S
+_salver._] It sounds very nice.
+
+            [THOMAS _returns the paper to_ MISS HENEAGE.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. In my opinion it barely escapes sounding nasty. However,
+it is correct. The only remaining question is--to whom the
+announcement should not be sent. [THOMAS _goes out._] I consider an
+announcement of the wedding of two divorced persons to be in the
+nature of an intimate communication. It not only announces the
+wedding--it also announces the divorce. [_Returning to her teacup._]
+The person I shall ask counsel of is cousin William Sudley. He
+promised to drop in this afternoon.
+
+GRACE. Oh! We shall hear all about Cairo.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. William is judicious. [THOMAS _returns._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_With finality._] Cousin William will disapprove of the
+match unless a winter in Cairo has altered his moral tone.
+
+THOMAS. [_Announcing._] Mr. Sudley.
+
+    _He ushers in_ WILLIAM SUDLEY, _a little oldish gentleman. He
+    is and appears thoroughly insignificant. But his opinion of
+    the place he occupies in the world is enormous. His manners,
+    voice, presence, are all those of a man of breeding and
+    self-importance._
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE _and_ MISS HENEAGE. [_Rising and greeting_ SUDLEY; _a
+little tremulously._] My dear William!
+
+            [THOMAS _withdraws._
+
+SUDLEY. [_Shakes hands with_ MRS. PHILLIMORE, _soberly glad to see
+them._] How d'ye do, Mary? [_Greeting_ MISS HENEAGE.] A very warm May
+you're having, Sarah.
+
+GRACE. [_Coming forward to welcome him._] Dear Cousin William!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Wasn't it warm in Cairo when you left?
+
+    _She will have the strict truth, or nothing; still, on
+    account of_ SUDLEY'S _impeccable respectability, she treats
+    him with more than usual leniency._
+
+SUDLEY. [_Sitting down._] We left Cairo six weeks ago, Grace, so I've
+had no news since you wrote in February that Philip was engaged.
+[_After a pause._] I need not to say I consider Philip's engagement
+excessively regrettable. He is a judge upon the Supreme Court bench
+with a divorced wife--and such a divorced wife!
+
+GRACE. Oh, but Philip has succeeded in keeping everything as quiet as
+possible.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Acidly._] No, my dear! He has not succeeded in keeping his
+former wife as quiet as possible. We had not been in Cairo a week when
+who should turn up but Vida Phillimore. She went everywhere and did
+everything no woman should!
+
+GRACE. [_With unfeigned interest._] Oh, what did she do?
+
+SUDLEY. She "did" Cleopatra at the tableaux at Lord Errington's! She
+"did" Cleopatra, and she did it robed only in some diaphanous material
+of a nature so transparent that--in fact she appeared to be draped in
+moonshine. [MISS HENEAGE _indicates the presence of_ GRACE _and
+rises._] That was only the beginning. As soon as she heard of Philip's
+engagement, she gave a dinner in honour of it! Only divorcees were
+asked! And she had a dummy--yes, my dear, a dummy!--at the head of the
+table. He stood for Philip--that is he sat for Philip!
+
+            [_Rising and moving to the table._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Irritated and disgusted._] Ah!
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_With dismay and pain._] Dear me!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Confident of the value of her opinion._] I disapprove
+of Mrs. Phillimore.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Taking a cigarette._] Of course you do, but has Philip taken
+to Egyptian cigarettes in order to celebrate my winter at Cairo?
+
+GRACE. Those are Cynthia's.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Thinking that no one is worth knowing whom he does not
+know._] Who is "Cynthia?"
+
+GRACE. Mrs. Karslake--She's staying here, Cousin William. She'll be
+down in a minute.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Shocked._] You don't mean to tell me--?--!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Yes, William, Cynthia is Mrs. Karslake--Mrs. Karslake
+has no New York house. I disliked the publicity of a hotel in the
+circumstances, and, accordingly, when she became engaged to Philip, I
+invited her here.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Suspicious and distrustful._] And may I ask _who_ Mrs.
+Karslake is?
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_With confidence._] She was a Deane.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Walking about the room, sorry to be obliged to concede good
+birth to any but his own blood._] Oh, oh--well, the Deanes are
+extremely nice people. [_Approaching the table._] Was her father J.
+William Deane?
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Nodding, still more secure._] Yes.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Giving in with difficulty._] The family is an old one. J.
+William Deane's daughter? Surely he left a very considerable--
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Oh, fifteen or twenty millions.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Determined not to be dazzled._] If I remember rightly she
+was brought up abroad.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. In France and England--and I fancy brought up with a
+very gay set in very gay places. In fact she is what is called a
+"sporty" woman.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Always ready to think the worst._] We might put up with
+that. But you don't mean to tell me Philip has the--the--assurance to
+marry a woman who has been divorced by--
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Not at all. Cynthia Karslake divorced her husband.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Gloomily, since he has less fault to find than he
+expected._] She divorced him! Ah!
+
+            [_He seeks the consolation of his tea._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. The suit went by default. And, my dear William, there
+are many palliating circumstances. Cynthia was married to Karslake
+only seven months. There are no-- [_Glancing at_ GRACE] no hostages to
+Fortune! Ahem!
+
+SUDLEY. [_Still unwilling to be pleased._] Ah! What sort of a young
+woman is she?
+
+GRACE. [_With the superiority of one who is not too popular._] Men
+admire her.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. She's not conventional.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Showing a faint sense of justice._] I am bound to
+say she has behaved discreetly ever since she arrived in this house.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Yes, Mary--but I sometimes suspect that she exercises a
+degree of self-control--
+
+SUDLEY. [_Glad to have something against some one._] She claps on the
+lid, eh? And you think that perhaps some day she'll boil over? Well,
+of course fifteen or twenty millions--but who's Karslake?
+
+GRACE. [_Very superciliously._] He owns Cynthia K. She's the famous
+mare.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. He's Henry Karslake's son.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Beginning to make the best of fifteen millions-in-law._]
+Oh!--Henry!--Very respectable family. Although I remember his father
+served a term in the Senate. And so the wedding is to be to-morrow?
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Assenting._] To-morrow.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Rising, his respectability to the front when he thinks of
+the ceremony._ GRACE _rises._] To-morrow. Well, my dear Sarah, a
+respectable family with some means. We must accept her. But on the
+whole, I think it will be best for me not to see the young woman. My
+disapprobation would make itself apparent.
+
+GRACE. [_Whispering to_ SUDLEY.] Cynthia's coming.
+
+            [_He doesn't hear._
+
+    CYNTHIA _comes in, absorbed in reading a newspaper. She is a
+    young creature in her twenties, small and high-bred, full of
+    the love of excitement and sport. Her manner is wide-awake
+    and keen, and she is evidently in no fear of the opinion of
+    others. Her dress is exceedingly elegant, but with the
+    elegance of a woman whose chief interests lie in life out of
+    doors. There is nothing hard or masculine in her style, and
+    her expression is youthful and ingenuous._
+
+SUDLEY. [_Sententious and determinately epigrammatic._] The uncouth
+modern young woman, eight feet high, with a skin like a rhinoceros and
+manners like a cave-dweller--an habitue of the race-track and the
+divorce court--
+
+GRACE. [_Aside to_ SUDLEY.] Cousin William!
+
+SUDLEY. Eh, oh!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Reading her newspaper, advances into the room, immersed,
+excited, trembling. She lowers paper to catch the light._] "Belmont
+favourite--six to one--Rockaway--Rosebud, and Flying Cloud. Slow
+track--raw wind--h'm, h'm, h'm--At the half, Rockaway forged ahead,
+when Rosebud under the lash made a bold bid for victory--neck by
+neck--for a quarter--when Flying Cloud slipped by the pair and won on
+the post by a nose in one forty nine!" [_Speaking with the enthusiasm
+of a sport._] Oh, I wish I'd seen the dear thing do it. Oh, it's Mr.
+Sudley! You must think me very rude. How do you do, Mr. Sudley?
+
+            [_Going over to_ SUDLEY.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Bowing without cordiality._] Mrs. Karslake.
+
+[CYNTHIA _pauses, feeling he should say something. As he says nothing,
+she speaks again._
+
+CYNTHIA. I hope Cairo was delightful? Did you have a smooth voyage?
+
+SUDLEY. [_Pompously._] You must permit me, Mrs. Karslake--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With good temper, somewhat embarrassed, and talking herself
+into ease._] Oh, please don't welcome me to the family. All that
+formal part is over, if you don't mind. I'm one of the tribe now!
+You're coming to our wedding to-morrow?
+
+SUDLEY. My dear Mrs. Karslake, I think it might be wiser--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Still with cordial good temper._] Oh, but you must come! I
+mean to be a perfect wife to Philip and all his relations! That sounds
+rather miscellaneous, but you know what I mean.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Very sententious._] I am afraid--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Gay and still covering her embarrassment._] If you don't
+come, it'll look as if you were not standing by Philip when he's in
+trouble! You'll come, won't you--but of course you will.
+
+SUDLEY. [_After a self-important pause._] I will come, Mrs. Karslake.
+[_Pausing._] Good-afternoon. [_In a tone of sorrow and light
+compassion._] Good-bye, Mary. Good-afternoon, Sarah. [_Sighing._]
+Grace, dear. [_To_ MISS HENEAGE.] At what hour did you say the alimony
+commences?
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Quickly and commandingly to cover his slip._] The
+ceremony is at three P. M., William.
+
+            [SUDLEY _walks toward the door._
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_With fatigued voice and manner as she rises._] I am
+going to my room to rest awhile.
+
+            [_She trails slowly from the room._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_To_ SUDLEY.] Oh, William, one moment--I entirely
+forgot! I've a most important social question to ask you! [_She
+accompanies him slowly to the door._] in regard to the announcements
+of the wedding--who they shall be sent to and who not. For
+instance--the Dudleys-- [_Deep in their talk_, SUDLEY _and_ MISS
+HENEAGE _pass out together._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_From the sofa._] So that's Cousin William?
+
+GRACE. [_From the tea-table._] Don't you like him?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Calmly sarcastic._] Like him? I love him. He's so generous.
+He couldn't have received me with more warmth if I'd been a mulatto.
+
+    THOMAS _comes in, preceded by_ PHILLIMORE. PHILIP PHILLIMORE
+    _is a self-centered, short-tempered, imperious member of the
+    respectable fashionables of New York. He is well and solidly
+    dressed, and in manner and speech evidently a man of family.
+    He is accustomed to being listened to in his home circle and
+    from the bench, and it is practically impossible for him to
+    believe that he can make a mistake._
+
+GRACE. [_Outraged._] Really you know-- [CYNTHIA _moves to the table._]
+Philip!
+
+    PHILIP _nods to_ GRACE _absent-mindedly. He is in his working
+    suit and looks tired. He walks into the room silently; goes
+    over to the tea-table, bends over and kisses_ CYNTHIA _on the
+    forehead. Goes to his chair, which_ THOMAS _has moved to suit
+    him. He sits, and sighs with satisfaction._
+
+PHILIP. [_As if exhausted by brain work._] Ah, Grace! [GRACE
+_immediately sails out of the room._] Well, my dear, I thought I
+should never extricate myself from the court-room. You look very
+debonnair!
+
+CYNTHIA. The tea's making. You'll have your glass of sherry?
+
+PHILIP. [_The strain of the day evidently having been severe._]
+Thanks! [_Taking it from_ THOMAS _and sighing._] Ah!
+
+CYNTHIA. I can see it's been a tiring day with you.
+
+PHILIP. [_His great tussle with the world leaving him unworsted but
+utterly spent._] H'm! [_He gratefully sips his tea._
+
+CYNTHIA. Were the lawyers very long-winded?
+
+PHILIP. [_Almost too tired for speech._] Prolix to the point of
+somnolence. It might be affirmed without inexactitude that the
+prolixity of counsel is the somnolence of the judiciary. I am
+fatigued, ah! [_A little suddenly, awaking to the fact that his orders
+have not been carried out to the letter._] Thomas! My _Post_ is not in
+its usual place!
+
+CYNTHIA. It's here, Philip. [THOMAS _gets it._
+
+PHILIP. Thanks, my dear. [_Opening "The Post."_] Ah! This hour with
+you--is--is really the--the-- [_Absently._] the one vivid moment of the
+day. [_Reading._] H'm--shocking attack by the President on vested
+interests. H'm--too bad--but it's to be expected. The people insisted
+on electing a desperado to the presidential office--they must take the
+hold-up that follows. [_After a pause, he reads._] H'm! His English is
+lacking in idiom, his spelling in conservatism, his mind in balance,
+and his character in repose.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Amiable but not very sympathetic._] You seem more fatigued
+than usual. Another glass of sherry, Philip?
+
+PHILIP. Oh, I ought not to--
+
+CYNTHIA. I think you seem a little more tired than usual.
+
+PHILIP. Perhaps I am. [_She pours out sherry._ PHILIP _takes glass but
+does not sip._] Ah, this hour is truly a grateful form of restful
+excitement. [_After an inspired interval._] You, too, find it--eh?
+[_He looks at_ CYNTHIA.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With veiled sarcasm._] Decidedly.
+
+PHILIP. Decidedly what, my dear?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Her sarcasm still veiled._] Restful.
+
+PHILIP. H'm! Perhaps I need the calm more than you do. Over the case
+to-day I actually--eh-- [_Sipping his tea._] slumbered. I heard myself
+do it. That's how I know. A dressmaker sued on seven counts. [_Reading
+his newspaper._] Really, the insanity of the United States Senate--you
+seem restless, my dear. Ah--um--have you seen the evening paper? I see
+there has been a lightning change in the style or size of hats which
+ladies--
+
+    [_Sweeping a descriptive motion with his hand, he gives the
+    paper to_ CYNTHIA, _then moves his glass, reads, and sips._
+
+CYNTHIA. The lamp, Thomas.
+
+    THOMAS _blows out the alcohol lamp on the tea-table with
+    difficulty. Blows twice. Movement of_ PHILIP _each time.
+    Blows again._
+
+PHILIP. [_Irritably._] Confound it, Thomas! What are you puffing and
+blowing at--?
+
+THOMAS. It's out, ma'am--yes, sir.
+
+PHILIP. You're excessively noisy, Thomas!
+
+THOMAS. [_In a fluster._] Yes, sir--I am.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Soothing_ THOMAS'S _wounded feelings._] We don't need you,
+Thomas.
+
+THOMAS. Yes, ma'am.
+
+PHILIP. Puffing and blowing and shaking and quaking like an automobile
+in an ecstasy! [THOMAS _meekly withdraws._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Not unsympathetically._] Too bad, Philip! I hope my
+presence isn't too agitating?
+
+PHILIP. Ah--it's just because I value this hour with you,
+Cynthia--this hour of tea and toast and tranquillity. It's quite as if
+we were married--happily married--already.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Admitting that married life is a blank, begins to look
+through paper._] Yes, I feel as if we were married already.
+
+PHILIP. [_Not recognizing her tone._] Ah! It's the calm, you see.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Without warmth._] The calm? Yes--yes, it's--it's the calm.
+
+PHILIP. [_Sighs._] Yes, the calm--the Halcyon calm of--of second
+choice. H'm! [_He reads and turns over the leaves of the paper._
+CYNTHIA _reads. There is a silence._] After all, my dear--the feeling
+which I have for you--is--is--eh--the market is in a shocking
+condition of plethora! H'm--h'm--and what are you reading?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Embarrassed._] Oh, eh--well--I--eh--I'm just running over
+the sporting news.
+
+PHILIP. Oh! [_He looks thoughtful._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Beginning to forget_ PHILIP _and to remember more
+interesting matters._] I fancied Hermes would come in an easy winner.
+He came in nowhere. Nonpareil was ridden by Henslow--he's a rotten bad
+rider. He gets nervous.
+
+PHILIP. [_Still interested in his newspaper._] Does he? H'm! I suppose
+you do retain an interest in horses and races. H'm--I trust some day
+the--ah--law will attract--Oh [_Turning a page._], here's the report
+of my opinion in that dressmaker's case--Haggerty _vs._ Phillimore.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Puzzled._] Was the case brought against you?
+
+PHILIP. Oh--no. The suit was brought by Haggerty, Miss Haggerty, a
+dressmaker, against the--in fact, my dear, against the former Mrs.
+Phillimore. [_After a pause, he returns to his reading._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Curious about the matter._] How did you decide it?
+
+PHILIP. I was obliged to decide in Mrs. Phillimore's favour.
+Haggerty's plea was preposterous.
+
+CYNTHIA. Did you--did you meet the--the--former--?
+
+PHILIP. No.
+
+CYNTHIA. I often see her at afternoon teas.
+
+PHILIP. How did you recognize--
+
+CYNTHIA. Why-- [_Opening the paper._] because Mrs. Vida Phillimore's
+picture appears in every other issue of most of the evening papers.
+And I must confess I was curious. But, I'm sure you find it very
+painful to meet her again.
+
+PHILIP. [_Slowly, considering._] No,--would you find it so impossible
+to meet Mr.--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Much excited and aroused._] Philip! Don't speak of him.
+He's nothing. He's a thing of the past. I never think of him. I forget
+him!
+
+PHILIP. [_Somewhat sarcastic._] That's extraordinarily original of you
+to forget him.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Gently, and wishing to drop the subject._] We each of us
+have something to forget, Philip--and John Karslake is to me--Well,
+he's dead!
+
+PHILIP. As a matter of fact, my dear, he _is_ dead, or the next thing
+to it--for he's bankrupt.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_After a pause._] Bankrupt? [_Excited and moved._] Let's not
+speak of him. I mean never to see him or think about him or even hear
+of him! [_He assents. She reads her paper. He sips his tea and reads
+his paper. She turns a page, starts and cries out._
+
+PHILIP. God bless me!
+
+CYNTHIA. It's a picture of--of--
+
+PHILIP. John Karslake?
+
+CYNTHIA. Picture of him, and one of me, and in the middle between us
+"Cynthia K!"
+
+PHILIP. "Cynthia K!"
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Excited._] My pet riding mare! The best horse he has! She's
+an angel even in a photograph! Oh! [_Reading._] "John Karslake drops a
+fortune at Saratoga." [_Rises and walks up and down excitedly._ PHILIP
+_takes the paper and reads._
+
+PHILIP. [_Unconcerned, as the matter hardly touches him._]
+Hem--ah--Advertises country place for sale--stables, famous mare
+"Cynthia K"--favourite riding-mare of former Mrs. Karslake, who is
+once again to enter the arena of matrimony with the well-known and
+highly respected judge of--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Sensitive and much disturbed._] Don't! Don't, Philip,
+please don't!
+
+PHILIP. My dear Cynthia--take another paper--here's my _Post_! You'll
+find nothing disagreeable in _The Post_.
+
+            [CYNTHIA _takes paper._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_After reading, near the table._] It's much worse in _The
+Post_. "John Karslake sells the former Mrs. Karslake's jewels--the
+famous necklace now at Tiffany's, and the sporty ex-husband sells his
+wife's portrait by Sargent!" Philip, I can't stand this. [_Puts paper
+on the table._
+
+PHILIP. Really, my dear, Mr. Karslake is bound to appear occasionally
+in print--or even you may have to meet him.
+
+            [Thomas _comes in._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Determined and distressed._] I won't meet him! I won't meet
+him. Every time I hear his name or "Cynthia K's" I'm so depressed.
+
+THOMAS. [_Announcing with something like reluctance._] Sir, Mr.
+Fiddler. Mr. Karslake's trainer.
+
+    FIDDLER _walks in. He is an English horse trainer, a
+    wide-awake, stocky, well-groomed little cockney. He knows his
+    own mind and sees life altogether through a stable door.
+    Well-dressed for his station, and not too young._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Excited and disturbed._] Fiddler? Tim Fiddler? His coming
+is outrageous!
+
+FIDDLER. A note for you, sir.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Impulsively._] Oh, Fiddler--is that you?
+
+FIDDLER. Yes'm!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_In a half whisper, still speaking on impulse._] How is she!
+Cynthia K? How's Planet II and the colt and Golden Rod? How's the
+whole stable? Are they well?
+
+FIDDLER. No'm--we're all on the bum. [_Aside._] Ever since you kicked
+us over!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Reproving him, though pleased._] Fiddler!
+
+FIDDLER. The horses is just simply gone to Egypt since you left, and
+so's the guv'nor.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Putting an end to_ FIDDLER.] That will do, Fiddler.
+
+FIDDLER. I'm waiting for an answer, sir.
+
+CYNTHIA. What is it, Philip?
+
+PHILIP. [_Uncomfortable._] A mere matter of business. [_Aside to_
+FIDDLER.] The answer is, Mr. Karslake can come. The--the coast will be
+clear. [FIDDLER _goes out._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Amazed; rising._] You're not going to see him?
+
+PHILIP. But Karslake, my dear, is an old acquaintance of mine. He
+argues cases before me. I will see that you do not have to meet him.
+
+    [CYNTHIA _walks the length of the room in excited dejection._
+
+    MATTHEW _comes in. He is a High-church clergyman to a highly
+    fashionable congregation. His success is partly due to his
+    social position and partly to his elegance of speech, but
+    chiefly to his inherent amiability, which leaves the sinner
+    in happy peace and smiles on the just and unjust alike._
+
+MATTHEW. [_Most amiably._] Ah, my dear brother!
+
+PHILIP. [_Greeting him._] Matthew.
+
+MATTHEW. [_Nodding to_ PHILIP.] Good afternoon, my dear Cynthia. How
+charming you look! [CYNTHIA _sits down at the tea-table. To_
+CYNTHIA.] Ah, why weren't you in your pew yesterday? I preached a most
+original sermon.
+
+            [_He lays his hat and cane on the divan._
+
+THOMAS. [_Aside to_ PHILIP.] Sir, Mrs. Vida Phillimore's maid called
+you up on the telephone, and you're to expect Mrs. Phillimore on a
+matter of business.
+
+PHILIP. [_Astonished and disgusted._] Here, impossible! [_To_
+CYNTHIA.] Excuse me, my dear! [PHILIP, _much embarrassed, goes out,
+followed by_ THOMAS.
+
+MATTHEW. [_Approaching_ CYNTHIA'S _chair, happily and pleasantly
+self-important._] No, really, it was a wonderful sermon, my dear. My
+text was from Paul--"It is better to marry than to burn." It was a
+strictly logical sermon. I argued--that, as the grass withereth, and
+the flower fadeth,--there is nothing final in Nature; not even Death!
+And, as there is nothing final in Nature, not even Death;--so then if
+Death is not final--why should marriage be final? [_Gently._] And so
+the necessity of--eh--divorce! You see? It was an exquisite sermon!
+All New York was there! And all New York went away happy! Even the
+sinners--if there were any! I don't often meet sinners--do you?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Indulgently, in spite of his folly, because he is kind._]
+You're such a dear, delightful Pagan! Here's your tea!
+
+MATTHEW. [_Taking the tea._] Why, my dear--you have a very sad
+expression!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_A little bitterly._] Why not?
+
+MATTHEW. [_With sentimental sweetness._] I feel as if I were of no use
+in the world when I see sadness on a young face. Only sinners should
+feel sad. You have committed no sin!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Impulsively._] Yes, I have!
+
+MATTHEW. Eh?
+
+CYNTHIA. I committed the unpardonable sin--whe--when I married for
+love!
+
+MATTHEW. One must not marry for anything else, my dear!
+
+CYNTHIA. Why am I marrying your brother?
+
+MATTHEW. I often wonder why? I wonder why you didn't choose to remain
+a free woman.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Going over the ground she has often argued with herself._]
+I meant to; but a divorcee has no place in society. I felt horridly
+lonely! I wanted a friend. Philip was ideal as a friend--for months.
+Isn't it nice to bind a friend to you?
+
+MATTHEW. [_Setting down his teacup._] Yes--yes!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Growing more and more excited and moved as she speaks._] To
+marry a friend--to marry on prudent, sensible grounds--a man--like
+Philip? That's what I should have done first, instead of rushing into
+marriage--because I had a wild, mad, sensitive, sympathetic--passion
+and pain and fury--of, I don't know what--that almost strangled me
+with happiness!
+
+MATTHEW. [_Amiable and reminiscent._] Ah--ah--in my youth--I,--I too!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Coming back to her manner of every day._] And besides--the
+day Philip asked me I was in the dumps! And now--how about marrying
+only for love? [PHILIP _comes back._
+
+MATTHEW. Ah, my dear, love is not the only thing in the world!
+
+PHILIP. [_Half aside._] I got there too late, she'd hung up.
+
+CYNTHIA. Who, Philip?
+
+PHILIP. Eh--a lady--eh--
+
+            [THOMAS, _flurried, comes in with a card on a salver._
+
+THOMAS. A card for you, sir. Ahem--ahem--Mrs. Phillimore--that was,
+sir.
+
+PHILIP. Eh?
+
+THOMAS. She's on the stairs, sir. [_He nods backward, only to find_
+VIDA _at his side. He announces her as being the best way of meeting
+the difficulty._] Mrs. Vida Phillimore!
+
+    VIDA _comes in slowly, with the air of a spoiled beauty. She
+    stops just inside the door and speaks in a very casual
+    manner. Her voice is languorous and caressing. She is dressed
+    in the excess of the French fashion and carries a daring
+    parasol. She smiles and comes in, undulating, to the middle
+    of the room. Tableau._ THOMAS _withdraws._
+
+VIDA. How do you do, Philip. [_After a pause._] Don't tell me I'm a
+surprise! I had you called up on the 'phone and I sent up my
+card--and, besides, Philip dear, when you have the--the--habit of the
+house, as unfortunately I have, you can't treat yourself like a
+stranger in a strange land. At least, I can't--so here I am. My reason
+for coming was to ask you about that B. & O. stock we hold in common.
+[_To_ MATTHEW, _condescendingly, the clergy being a class of
+unfortunates debarred by profession from the pleasures of the world._]
+How do you do? [_Pause. She then goes to the real reason of her
+visit._] Do be polite and present me to your wife-to-be.
+
+PHILIP. [_Awkwardly._] Cynthia--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Cheerfully, with dash, putting the table between_ VIDA _and
+herself._] We're delighted to see you, Mrs. Phillimore. I needn't ask
+you to make yourself at home, but will you have a cup of tea? [MATTHEW
+_sits near the little table._
+
+VIDA. [_To_ PHILIP.] My dear, she's not in the least what I expected.
+I heard she was a dove! She's a very dashing kind of a dove! [_To_
+CYNTHIA, _who moves to the tea-table._] My dear, I'm paying you
+compliments. Five lumps and quantities of cream. I find single life
+very thinning. [_To_ PHILIP, _calm and ready to be agreeable to any
+man._] And how well you're looking! It must be the absence of
+matrimonial cares--or is it a new angel in the house?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Outraged at_ VIDA'S _intrusion, but polite though
+delicately sarcastic._] It's most amusing to sit in your place. And
+how at home you must feel here in this house where you have made so
+much trouble--I mean tea. [_Rises._] Do you know it would be in much
+better taste if you would take the place you're accustomed to?
+
+VIDA. [_As calm as before._] My dear, I'm an intruder only for a
+moment; I sha'n't give you a chance to score off me again! But I must
+thank you, dear Philip, for rendering that decision in my favour--
+
+PHILIP. I assure you--
+
+Vida. [_Unable to resist a thrust._] Of course, you would like to have
+rendered it against me. It was your wonderful sense of justice, and
+that's why I'm so grateful--if not to you, to your Maker!
+
+PHILIP. [_Feels that this is no place for his future wife. Rises
+quickly. To_ CYNTHIA.] Cynthia, I would prefer that you left us.
+
+            [MATTHEW _moves to the sofa and sits down._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Determined not to leave the field first, remains seated._]
+Certainly, Philip!
+
+PHILIP. I expect another visitor who--
+
+VIDA. [_With flattering insistence, to_ CYNTHIA.] Oh, my dear--don't
+go! The truth is--I came to see you! I feel most cordially towards
+you--and really, you know, people in our position should meet on
+cordial terms.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Taking it with apparent calm, but pointing her remarks._]
+Naturally. If people in our position couldn't meet, New York society
+would soon come to an end. [THOMAS _comes in._
+
+VIDA. [_Calm, but getting her knife in too._] Precisely. Society's no
+bigger than a band-box. Why, it's only a moment ago I saw Mr. Karslake
+walking--
+
+CYNTHIA. Ah!
+
+THOMAS. [_Announcing clearly. Everyone changes place, in
+consternation, amusement or surprise._ CYNTHIA _moves to leave the
+room, but stops for fear of attracting_ KARSLAKE'S _attention._] Mr.
+John Karslake!
+
+    _Enter_ KARSLAKE. _He is a powerful, generous personality, a
+    man of affairs, breezy, gay and careless. He gives the
+    impression of being game for any fate in store for him. His
+    clothes indicate sporting propensities and his taste in
+    waistcoats and ties is brilliant._ KARSLAKE _sees first_
+    PHILIP _and then_ MATTHEW. THOMAS _goes out._
+
+PHILIP. How do you do?
+
+JOHN. [_Very gay and no respecter of persons._] Good-afternoon, Mr.
+Phillimore. Hello--here's the church! [_Crossing to_ MATTHEW _and
+shaking hands. He slaps him on the back._] I hadn't the least
+idea--how are you? By George, your reverence, that was a racy sermon
+of yours on Divorce! What was your text? [_Sees_ VIDA _and bows, very
+politely._] Galatians 4:2, "The more the merrier," or "Who next?"
+[_Smiles._] As the whale said after Jonah! [CYNTHIA _makes a sudden
+movement, upsetting her tea-cup._ JOHN _faces about quickly and they
+face each other._ JOHN _gives a frank start. A pause holds them._
+
+JOHN. [_Astounded, in a low voice._] Mrs. Karslake-- [_Bowing._] I was
+not aware of the pleasure in store for me. I understood you were in
+the country. [_Recovering and moving to her chair._] Perhaps you'll be
+good enough to make me a cup of tea?--that is if the teapot wasn't
+lost in the scrimmage. [_There is another pause._ CYNTHIA, _determined
+to equal him in coolness, returns to the tea-tray._] Mr. Phillimore, I
+came to get your signature in that matter of Cox _vs._ Keely.
+
+PHILIP. I shall be at your service, but pray be seated.
+
+            [_He indicates a chair by the tea-table._
+
+JOHN. [_Sitting beyond but not far from the tea-table._] And I also
+understood you to say you wanted a saddle-horse.
+
+PHILIP. You have a mare called--eh--"Cynthia K?"
+
+JOHN. [_Promptly._] Yes--she's not for sale.
+
+PHILIP. Oh, but she's just the mare I had set my mind on.
+
+JOHN. [_With a touch of humour._] You want her for yourself?
+
+PHILIP. [_A little flustered._] I--eh--I sometimes ride.
+
+JOHN. [_Now sure of himself._] She's rather lively for you, Judge.
+Mrs. Karslake used to ride her.
+
+PHILIP. You don't care to sell her to me?
+
+JOHN. She's a dangerous mare, Judge, and she's as delicate and
+changeable as a girl. I'd hate to leave her in your charge!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Eagerly but in a low voice._] Leave her in mine, Mr.
+Karslake!
+
+JOHN. [_After a slight pause._] Mrs. Karslake knows all about a horse,
+but-- [_Turning to_ CYNTHIA.] Cynthia K's got rather tricky of late.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Haughtily._] You mean to say you think she'd chuck me?
+
+JOHN. [_With polite solicitude and still humourous. To_ PHILIP.] I'd
+hate to have a mare of mine deprive you of a wife, Judge. [_Rises._
+CYNTHIA _shows anger._] She goes to Saratoga next week, C. W.
+
+VIDA. [_Who has been sitting and talking to_ MATTHEW _for lack of a
+better man, comes to talk to_ KARSLAKE.] C. W.?
+
+JOHN. [_Rising as she rises._] Creditors willing.
+
+VIDA. [_Changing her seat for one near the tea-table._] I'm sure your
+creditors are willing.
+
+JOHN. Oh, they're a breezy lot, my creditors. They're giving me a
+dinner this evening.
+
+VIDA. [_More than usually anxious to please._] I regret I'm not a
+breezy creditor, but I do think you owe it to me to let me see your
+Cynthia K! Can't you lead her around to my house?
+
+JOHN. At what hour, Mrs. Phillimore?
+
+VIDA. Say eleven? And you, too, might have a leading in my
+direction--771 Fifth Avenue.
+
+            [JOHN _bows._ CYNTHIA _hears and notes this._
+
+CYNTHIA. Your cup of tea, Mr. Karslake.
+
+JOHN. Thanks. [_Taking his tea and sipping it._] I beg your
+pardon--you have forgotten, Mrs. Karslake--very naturally, it has
+slipped your memory, but I don't take sugar. [CYNTHIA, _furious with
+him and herself. He hands the cup back. She makes a second cup._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Cheerfully; in a rage._] Sorry!
+
+JOHN. [_Also apparently cheerful._] Yes, gout. It gives me a twinge
+even to sit in the shadow of a sugar-maple! First you riot, and then
+you diet!
+
+VIDA. [_Calm and amused; aside to_ MATTHEW.] My dear Matthew, he's a
+darling! But I feel as if we were all taking tea on the slope of a
+volcano! [MATTHEW _sits down._
+
+PHILIP. It occurred to me, Mr. Karslake, you might be glad to find a
+purchaser for your portrait by Sargent?
+
+JOHN. It's not _my_ portrait. It's a portrait of Mrs. Karslake, and to
+tell you the truth--Sargent's a good fellow--I've made up my mind to
+keep it--to remember the artist by.
+
+            [CYNTHIA _is wounded by this._
+
+PHILIP. H'm!
+
+            [CYNTHIA _hands a second cup to_ JOHN.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With careful politeness._] Your cup of tea, Mr. Karslake.
+
+JOHN. [_Rising and taking the tea with courteous indifference._]
+Thanks--sorry to trouble you.
+
+            [_He drinks the cup of tea standing by the tea-table._
+
+PHILIP. [_To make conversation._] You're selling your country place?
+
+JOHN. If I was long of hair--I'd sell that.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Excited. Taken out of herself by the news._] You're not
+really selling your stable?
+
+JOHN. [_Finishes his tea, places the empty cup on the tea-table, and
+reseats himself._] Every gelding I've got--seven foals and a donkey! I
+don't mean the owner.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Still interested and forgetting the discomfort of the
+situation._] How did you ever manage to come such a cropper?
+
+JOHN. Streak of blue luck!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Quickly._] I don't see how it's possible--
+
+JOHN. You would if you'd been there. You remember the head man?
+[_Sitting down._] Bloke?
+
+CYNTHIA. Of course!
+
+JOHN. Well, his wife divorced him for beating her over the head with a
+bottle of Fowler's Solution, and it seemed to prey on his mind. He
+sold me--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Horrified._] Sold a race?
+
+JOHN. About ten races, I guess.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Incredulous._] Just because he'd beaten his wife?
+
+JOHN. No. Because she divorced him.
+
+CYNTHIA. Well, I can't see why that should prey on his mind!
+
+            [_Suddenly remembers._
+
+JOHN. Well, I have known men that it stroked the wrong way. But he
+cost me eighty thousand. And then Urbanity ran third in the
+thousand-dollar stakes for two-year-olds at Belmont.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Throws this remark in._] I never had faith in that horse.
+
+JOHN. And, of course, it never rains monkeys but it pours gorillas! So
+when I was down at St. Louis on the fifth, I laid seven to three on
+Fraternity--
+
+CYNTHIA. Crazy! Crazy!
+
+JOHN. [_Ready to take the opposite view._] I don't see it. With her
+record she ought to have romped it an easy winner.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Her sporting instinct asserting itself._] She hasn't the
+stamina! Look at her barrel!
+
+JOHN. Well, anyhow, Geranium finished me!
+
+CYNTHIA. You didn't lay odds on Geranium!
+
+JOHN. Why not? She's my own mare--
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh!
+
+JOHN. Streak o' bad luck--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Plainly anxious to say "I told you so."_] Streak of poor
+judgment! Do you remember the day you rode Billy at a six-foot stone
+wall, and he stopped and you didn't, and there was a hornet's nest
+[MATTHEW _rises._] on the other side, and I remember you were hot just
+because I said you showed poor judgment? [_She laughs at the memory. A
+general movement of disapproval. She remembers the situation._] I beg
+your pardon.
+
+MATTHEW. [_Rises to meet_ VIDA. _Hastily._] It seems to me that horses
+are like the fourth gospel. Any conversation about them becomes
+animated almost beyond the limits of the urbane! [VIDA, _disgusted by
+such plainness of speech, rises and goes to_ PHILIP _who waves her to
+a chair._
+
+PHILIP. [_Formally._] I regret that you have endured such reverses,
+Mr. Karslake. [JOHN _quietly bows._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Concealing her interest and speaking casually._] You
+haven't mentioned your new English horse--Pantomime. What did he do at
+St. Louis?
+
+JOHN. [_Sitting down._] Fell away and ran fifth.
+
+CYNTHIA. Too bad. Was he fully acclimated? Ah, well--
+
+JOHN. We always differed--you remember--on the time needed--
+
+MATTHEW. [_Coming over to_ CYNTHIA, _and speaking to carry off the
+situation as well as to get a tip._] Isn't there a--eh--a race
+to-morrow at Belmont Park?
+
+JOHN. Yes. I'm going down in my auto.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Evidently wishing she might be going too._] Oh!
+
+MATTHEW. And what animal shall you prefer?
+
+            [_Covering his personal interest with amiable altruism._
+
+JOHN. I'm backing Carmencita.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With a gesture of despair._] Carmencita! Carmencita!
+
+            [MATTHEW _returns to_ VIDA'S _side._
+
+JOHN. You may remember we always differed on Carmencita.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Disgusted at_ JOHN'S _dunderheadedness._] But there's no
+room for difference. She's a wild, headstrong, dissatisfied, foolish
+little filly. The deuce couldn't ride her--she'd shy at her own
+shadow--"Carmencita." Oh, very well then, I'll wager you--and I'll
+give you odds too--"Decorum" will come in first, and I'll lay three to
+one he'll beat Carmencita by five lengths! How's that for fair?
+
+JOHN. [_Never forgetting the situation._] Sorry I'm not flush enough
+to take you.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Impetuously._] Philip, dear, you lend John enough for the
+wager.
+
+MATTHEW. [_As nearly horrified as so soft a soul can be._] Ahem!
+Really--
+
+JOHN. It's a sporty idea, Mrs. Karslake, but perhaps in the
+circumstances--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Her mind on her wager._] In what circumstances?
+
+PHILIP. [_With a nervous laugh._] It does seem to me there is a
+certain impropriety--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Remembering the conventions, which, for a moment, had
+actually escaped her._] Oh, I forgot. When horses are in the air--
+
+MATTHEW. [_Pouring oil on troubled waters. Moving, he speaks to_ VIDA
+_from the back of her armchair._] It's the fourth gospel, you see.
+[THOMAS _comes in with a letter on a salver, which he hands to_
+PHILIP.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Meekly._] You are quite right, Philip. [PHILIP _goes up._]
+The fact is, seeing Mr. Karslake again [_Laying on her indifference
+with a trowel._] he seems to me as much a stranger as if I were
+meeting him for the first time.
+
+MATTHEW. [_Aside to_ VIDA.] We are indeed taking tea on the slope of a
+volcano.
+
+VIDA. [_About to go, but thinking she will have a last word with_
+JOHN.] I'm sorry your fortunes are so depressed, Mr. Karslake.
+
+PHILIP. [_Looking at the card that_ THOMAS _has just brought in._] Who
+in the world is Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby?
+
+            [_There is a general stir._
+
+JOHN. Oh--eh--Cates-Darby? [PHILIP _opens the letter which_ THOMAS
+_has brought with the card._] That's the English chap I bought
+Pantomime of.
+
+PHILIP. [_To_ THOMAS.] Show Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby in.
+
+    THOMAS _goes out. The prospect of an Englishman with a handle
+    to his name changes_ VIDA'S _plans and, instead of leaving
+    the house, she goes to sofa, and poses there._
+
+JOHN. He's a good fellow, Judge. Place near Epsom. Breeder. Over here
+to take a shy at our races.
+
+THOMAS. [_Opening the door and announcing._] Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby.
+
+    _Enter_ SIR WILFRID CATES-DARBY. _He is a high-bred, sporting
+    Englishman. His manner, his dress and his diction are the
+    perfection of English elegance. His movements are quick and
+    graceful. He talks lightly and with ease. He is full of life
+    and unsmiling good temper._
+
+PHILIP. [_To_ SIR WILFRID _and referring to the letter of introduction
+in his hand._] I am Mr. Phillimore. I am grateful to Stanhope for
+giving me the opportunity of knowing you, Sir Wilfrid. I fear you find
+it warm?
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Delicately mopping his forehead._] Ah, well--ah--warm,
+no--hot, yes! Deuced extraordinary climate yours, you know, Mr.
+Phillimore.
+
+PHILIP. [_Conventionally._] Permit me to present you to-- [_The
+unconventional situation pulls him up short. It takes him a moment to
+decide how to meet it. He makes up his mind to pretend that everything
+is as usual, and presents_ CYNTHIA _first._] Mrs. Karslake.
+
+    [SIR WILFRID _bows, surprised and doubtful._
+
+CYNTHIA. How do you do?
+
+PHILIP. And to Mrs. Phillimore. [VIDA _bows nonchalantly, but with a
+view to catching_ SIR WILFRID'S _attention._ SIR WILFRID _bows, and
+looks from her to_ PHILIP.] My brother--and Mr. Karslake you know.
+
+SIR WILFRID. How do, my boy. [_Half aside, to_ JOHN.] No idea you had
+such a charming little wife--What?--Eh? [KARSLAKE _moves to speak to_
+MATTHEW _and_ PHILIP _in the further room._
+
+CYNTHIA. You'll have a cup of tea, Sir Wilfrid?
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_At the table._] Thanks, awfully. [_Very cheerfully._]
+I'd no idea old John had a wife! The rascal never told me!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Pouring tea and facing the facts._] I'm not Mr. Karslake's
+wife!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh!--Eh?--I see--
+
+            [_He is evidently trying to think this out._
+
+VIDA. [_Who has been ready for some time to speak to him._] Sir
+Wilfrid, I'm sure no one has asked you how you like our country?
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Going to_ VIDA _and standing by her at the sofa._] Oh,
+well, as to climate and horses, I say nothing. But I like your
+American humour. I'm acquiring it for home purposes.
+
+VIDA. [_Getting down to love as the basis of conversation._] Aren't
+you going to acquire an American girl for home purposes?
+
+SIR WILFRID. The more narrowly I look the agreeable project in the
+face, the more I like it. Oughtn't to say that in the presence of your
+husband. [_He casts a look at_ PHILIP, _who has gone into the next
+room._
+
+VIDA. [_Cheerful and unconstrained._] He's not my husband!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Completely confused._] Oh--eh?--my brain must be
+boiled. You are--Mrs.--eh--ah--of course, now I see! I got the wrong
+names! I thought you were Mrs. Phillimore. [_Sitting down by her._]
+And that nice girl, Mrs. Karslake! You're deucedly lucky to be Mrs.
+Karslake. John's a prime sort. I say, have you and he got any kids?
+How many?
+
+VIDA. [_Horrified at being suspected of maternity, but speaking very
+sweetly._] He's not my husband.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_His good spirits all gone, but determined to clear
+things up._] Phew! Awfully hot in here! Who the deuce is John's wife?
+
+VIDA. He hasn't any.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Who's Phillimore's wife?
+
+VIDA. He hasn't any.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Thanks, fearfully! [_To_ MATTHEW, _whom he approaches;
+suspecting himself of having lost his wits._] Would you excuse me, my
+dear and Reverend Sir--you're a churchman and all that--would you mind
+straightening me out?
+
+MATTHEW. [_Most graciously._] Certainly, Sir Wilfrid. Is it a matter
+of doctrine?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, damme--beg your pardon,--no, it's not words, it's
+women.
+
+MATTHEW. [_Ready to be outraged._] Women!
+
+SIR WILFRID. It's divorce. Now, the lady on the sofa--
+
+MATTHEW. _Was_ my brother's wife; he divorced
+her--incompatibility--Rhode Island. The lady at the tea-table _was_
+Mr. Karslake's wife; she divorced him--desertion--Sioux Falls. One
+moment--she is about to marry my brother.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Cheerful again._] I'm out! Thought I never would be!
+Thanks! [VIDA _laughs._
+
+VIDA. [_Not a whit discountenanced and ready to please._] Have you got
+me straightened out yet?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Straight as a die! I say, you had lots of fun, didn't
+you? [_Returning to his position by the sofa._] And so _she's_ Mrs.
+John Karslake?
+
+VIDA. [_Calm, but secretly disappointed._] Do you like her?
+
+SIR WILFRID. My word!
+
+VIDA. [_Fully expecting personal flattery._] Eh?
+
+SIR WILFRID. She's a box o' ginger!
+
+VIDA. You haven't seen many American women!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, haven't I?
+
+VIDA. If you'll pay me a visit to-morrow--at twelve, you shall meet a
+most charming young woman, who has seen you once, and who admires
+you--ah!
+
+SIR WILFRID. I'm there--what!
+
+VIDA. Seven hundred and seventy-one Fifth Avenue.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Seven seventy-one Fifth Avenue--at twelve.
+
+VIDA. At twelve.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Thanks! [_Indicating_ CYNTHIA.] She's a thoroughbred--you
+can see that with one eye shut. Twelve. [_Shaking hands._] Awfully
+good of you to ask me. [_He joins_ JOHN.] I say, my boy, your former's
+an absolute certainty. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] I hear you're about to marry
+Mr. Phillimore, Mrs. Karslake?
+
+    KARSLAKE _crosses to_ VIDA _and together they move to the
+    sofa and sit down._
+
+CYNTHIA. To-morrow, 3 P. M., Sir Wilfrid.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Much taken with_ CYNTHIA.] Afraid I've run into a sort
+of family party, eh? [_Indicating_ VIDA.] The Past and the
+Future--awfully chic way you Americans have of asking your divorced
+husbands and wives to drop in, you know--celebrate a christenin', or
+the new bride, or--
+
+CYNTHIA. Do you like your tea strong?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Middlin'.
+
+CYNTHIA. Sugar?
+
+SIR WILFRID. One!
+
+CYNTHIA. Lemon?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Just torture a lemon over it. [_He makes a gesture as of
+twisting a lemon peel. She hands him his tea._] Thanks! So you do it
+to-morrow at three?
+
+CYNTHIA. At three, Sir Wilfrid.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Sorry!
+
+CYNTHIA. Why are you sorry?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Hate to see a pretty woman married. Might marry her
+myself.
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh, but I'm sure you don't admire American women.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Admire you, Mrs. Karslake--
+
+CYNTHIA. Not enough to marry me, I hope.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Marry you in a minute! Say the word. Marry you now--here.
+
+CYNTHIA. You don't think you ought to know me a little before--
+
+SIR WILFRID. Know you? Do know you.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Covering her hair with her handkerchief._] What colour is
+my hair?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Pshaw!
+
+CYNTHIA. You see! You don't know whether I'm a chestnut or a
+strawberry roan! In the States we think a few months of friendship is
+quite necessary.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Few months of moonshine! Never was a friend to a
+woman--thank God, in all my life.
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh--oh, oh!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Might as well talk about being a friend to a
+whiskey-and-soda.
+
+CYNTHIA. A woman has a soul, Sir Wilfrid.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Well, good whiskey is spirits--dozens o' souls!
+
+CYNTHIA. You are so gross!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Changing his seat for one at the tea-table._] Gross?
+Not a bit! Friendship between the sexes is all fudge! I'm no friend to
+a rose in my garden. I don't call it friendship--eh--eh--a warm,
+starry night, moonbeams and ilex trees, "and a spirit who knows how"
+and all that--eh-- [_Getting closer to her._] You make me feel awfully
+poetical, you know-- [PHILIP _comes toward them, glances nervously at_
+CYNTHIA _and_ SIR WILFRID, _and walks away again._] What's the matter?
+But, I say--poetry aside--do you, eh---- [_Looking around to place_
+PHILIP.] Does he--y'know--is he--does he go to the head?
+
+CYNTHIA. Sir Wilfrid, Mr. Phillimore is my sober second choice.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Did you ever kiss him? I'll bet he fined you for contempt
+of court. Look here, Mrs. Karslake, if you're marryin' a man you don't
+care about--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Amused and excusing his audacity as a foreigner's
+eccentricity._] Really!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Well, I don't offer myself--
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Not this instant--
+
+CYNTHIA. Ah!
+
+SIR WILFRID. But let me drop in to-morrow at ten.
+
+CYNTHIA. What country and state of affairs do you think you have
+landed in?
+
+SIR WILFRID. New York, by Jove! Been to school, too. New York is
+bounded on the North, South, East and West by the state of Divorce!
+Come, come, Mrs. Karslake, I like your country. You've no fear and no
+respect--no cant and lots of can. Here you all are, you see--your
+former husband, and your new husband's former wife--sounds like
+Ollendoff! Eh? So there you are, you see! But, jokin' apart--why do
+you marry him? Oh, well, marry him if you must! You can run around the
+corner and get a divorce afterwards--
+
+CYNTHIA. I believe you think they throw one in with an ice-cream soda!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Rising._] Damme, my dear lady, a marriage in your
+country is no more than a--eh--eh--what do you call 'em? A thank you,
+ma'am. That's what an American marriage is--a thank you, ma'am.
+Bump--bump--you're over it and on to the next.
+
+CYNTHIA. You're an odd fish! What? I believe I like you!
+
+SIR WILFRID. 'Course you do! You'll see me when I call to-morrow--at
+ten? We'll run down to Belmont Park, eh?
+
+CYNTHIA. Don't be absurd!
+
+VIDA. [_Has finished her talk with_ JOHN, _and breaks in on_ SIR
+WILFRID, _who has hung about_ CYNTHIA _too long to suit her._]
+To-morrow at twelve, Sir Wilfrid!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Twelve!
+
+VIDA. [_Shaking hands with_ JOHN.] Don't forget, Mr. Karslake--eleven
+o'clock to-morrow.
+
+JOHN. [_Bowing assent._] I won't!
+
+VIDA. [_Coming over to_ CYNTHIA.] Oh, Mrs. Karslake, I've ordered
+Tiffany to send you something. It's a sugar-bowl to sweeten the
+matrimonial lot! I suppose nothing would induce you to call?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Distantly and careless of offending._] Thanks, no--that is,
+is "Cynthia K" really to be there at eleven? I'd give a gold mine to
+see her again.
+
+VIDA. Do come!
+
+CYNTHIA. If Mr. Karslake will accommodate me by his absence.
+
+VIDA. Dear Mr. Karslake, you'll have to change your hour.
+
+JOHN. Sorry, I'm not able to.
+
+CYNTHIA. I can't come later for I'm to be married.
+
+JOHN. It's not as bad as that with me, but I am to be sold
+up--Sheriff, you know. Can't come later than eleven.
+
+VIDA. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Any hour but eleven, dear.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Perfectly regardless of_ VIDA, _and ready to vex_ JOHN _if
+possible._] Mrs. Phillimore, I shall call on you at eleven--to see
+Cynthia K. I thank you for the invitation. Good-afternoon.
+
+VIDA. [_Aside to_ JOHN, _crossing to speak quietly to him._] It's mere
+bravado; she won't come.
+
+JOHN. You don't know her.
+
+    _There is a pause and general embarrassment._ SIR WILFRID
+    _uses his eye-glass._ JOHN _angry._ CYNTHIA _triumphant._
+    MATTHEW _embarrassed._ VIDA _irritated._ PHILIP _puzzled.
+    Everybody is at odds._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_For the first time a witness to the pretty
+complications of divorce. To_ MATTHEW.] Do you have it as warm as this
+ordinarily?
+
+MATTHEW. [_For whom these moments are more than usually painful, and
+wiping his brow._] It's not so much the heat as the humidity.
+
+JOHN. [_Looks at watch and, relieved, glad to be off._] I shall be
+late for my creditors' dinner.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Interested and walking toward_ JOHN.] Creditors'
+dinner.
+
+JOHN. [_Reading the note._] Fifteen of my sporting creditors have
+arranged to give me a blow-out at Sherry's, and I'm expected right
+away or sooner. And, by the way, I was to bring my friends--if I had
+any. So now's the time to stand by me! Mrs. Phillimore?
+
+VIDA. Of course!
+
+JOHN. [_Ready to embarrass_ CYNTHIA, _if possible, and speaking as if
+he had quite forgotten their former relations._] Mrs. Karslake--I beg
+your pardon. Judge? [PHILIP _declines._] No? Sir Wilfrid?
+
+SIR WILFRID. I'm with you!
+
+JOHN. [_To_ MATTHEW.] Your Grace?
+
+MATTHEW. I regret--
+
+SIR WILFRID. Is it the custom for creditors--
+
+JOHN. Come on, Sir Wilfrid! [THOMAS _opens door._] Good-night,
+Judge--Your Grace--
+
+SIR WILFRID. Is it the custom--
+
+JOHN. Hang the custom! Come on--I'll show you a gang of creditors
+worth having!
+
+    SIR WILFRID _and_ JOHN _go out, arm in arm, preceded by_
+    VIDA. MATTHEW _crosses the room, smiling, as if pleased, in a
+    Christian way, with this display of generous gaiety. He stops
+    short suddenly and looks at his watch._
+
+MATTHEW. Good gracious! I had no idea the hour was so late. I've been
+asked to a meeting with Maryland and Iowa, to talk over the divorce
+situation. [_He leaves the room quickly and his voice is heard in the
+hall._] Good-afternoon! Good-afternoon!
+
+    CYNTHIA _is evidently much excited. The outer door slams._
+    PHILIP _comes down slowly._ CYNTHIA _stands, her eyes wide,
+    her breathing visible, until_ PHILIP _speaks, when she seems
+    suddenly to realize her position. There is a long pause._
+
+PHILIP. [_With a superior air._] I have seldom witnessed a more
+amazing cataclysm of jocundity! Of course, my dear, this has all been
+most disagreeable for you.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Excitedly._] Yes, yes, yes!
+
+PHILIP. I saw how much it shocked your delicacy.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Distressed and moved._] Outrageous.
+
+            [PHILIP _sits down._
+
+PHILIP. Do be seated, Cynthia. [_Taking up the paper. Quietly._] Very
+odd sort of an Englishman--that Cates-Darby!
+
+CYNTHIA. Sir Wilfrid?--Oh, yes! [PHILIP _settles down to the paper. To
+herself._] Outrageous! I've a great mind to go at eleven--just as I
+said I would!
+
+PHILIP. Do sit down, Cynthia!
+
+CYNTHIA. What? What?
+
+PHILIP. You make me so nervous--
+
+CYNTHIA. Sorry--sorry. [_She sits down and, seeing the paper, takes
+it, looking at the picture of_ JOHN KARSLAKE.
+
+PHILIP. [_Sighing with content._] Ah! now that I see him, I don't
+wonder you couldn't stand him. There's a kind of--ah--spontaneous
+inebriety about him. He is incomprehensible! If I might with reverence
+cross-question the Creator, I would say to him: "Sir, to what end or
+purpose did you create Mr. John Karslake?" I believe I should obtain
+no adequate answer! However, [_Sighs._] at last we have peace--and
+_The Post_! [PHILIP, _settling himself, reads his paper;_ CYNTHIA,
+_glancing at her paper, occasionally looks across at_ PHILIP.] Forget
+the dust of the arena--the prolixity of counsel--the involuntary
+fatuity of things in general. [_After a pause, he goes on with his
+reading._] Compose yourself!
+
+    MISS HENEAGE, MRS. PHILLIMORE _and_ GRACE _come in._ CYNTHIA
+    _sighs without letting her sigh be heard. She tries to
+    compose herself. She glances at the paper and then, hearing_
+    MISS HENEAGE, _starts slightly._ MISS HENEAGE _and_ MRS.
+    PHILLIMORE _stop at the table._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Carrying a sheet of paper._] There, my dear Mary, is
+the announcement as I have now reworded it. I took William's
+suggestion. [MRS. PHILLIMORE _takes and casually reads it._] I also
+put the case to him, and he was of the opinion that the announcement
+should be sent _only_ to those people who are really _in_ society.
+[_She sits near the table._ CYNTHIA _braces herself to bear the_
+PHILLIMORE _conversation._
+
+GRACE. I wish you'd make an exception of the Dudleys.
+
+            [CYNTHIA _rises and moves to the chair by the table._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. And, of course, that excludes the Oppenheims--the
+Vance-Browns.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. It's just as well to be exclusive.
+
+GRACE. I do wish you'd make an exception of Lena Dudley.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. We might, of course, include those new Girardos, and
+possibly--possibly the Paddingtons.
+
+GRACE. I do wish you would take in Lena Dudley.
+
+            [_They are now sitting._
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. The mother Dudley is as common as a charwoman, and
+not nearly as clean.
+
+PHILIP. [_Sighing, his own feelings, as usual, to the fore._] Ah! I
+certainly am fatigued!
+
+    CYNTHIA _begins to slowly crush the newspaper she has been
+    reading with both hands, as if the effort of self-repression
+    were too much for her._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Making the best of a gloomy future._] We shall have to
+ask the Dudleys sooner or later to dine, Mary--because of the elder
+girl's marriage to that dissolute French Marquis.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Plaintively._] I don't like common people any more
+than I like common cats, and of course in my time--
+
+MISS HENEAGE. I think I shall include the Dudleys.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. You think you'll include the Dudleys?
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Yes, I think I will include the Dudleys!
+
+    _Here_ CYNTHIA'S _control breaks down. Driven desperate by
+    their chatter, she has slowly rolled her newspaper into a
+    ball, and at this point tosses it violently to the floor and
+    bursts into hysterical laughter._
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. Why, my dear Cynthia--Compose yourself.
+
+PHILIP. [_Hastily._] What is the matter, Cynthia?
+
+            [_They speak together._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Why, Mrs. Karslake, what is the matter?
+
+GRACE. [_Coming quickly forward._] Mrs. Karslake!
+
+
+            CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+    SCENE. MRS. VIDA PHILLIMORE'S _boudoir. The room is furnished
+    to please an empty-headed, pleasure-loving and fashionable
+    woman. The furniture, the ornaments, what pictures there are,
+    all witness to taste up-to-date. Two French windows open on
+    to a balcony, from which the trees of Central Park can be
+    seen. There is a table between them; a mirror, a scent
+    bottle, &c., upon it. On the right, up stage, is a door; on
+    the right, down stage, another door. A lady's writing-table
+    stands between the two, nearer centre of stage. There is
+    another door up stage; below it, an open fireplace, filled
+    with potted plants, andirons, &c., not in use. Over it is a
+    tall mirror; on the mantel-piece are a French clock,
+    candelabra, vases, &c. On a line with the fireplace is a
+    lounge, gay with silk pillows. A florist's box, large and
+    long, filled with American Beauty roses, rests on a low table
+    near the head of the lounge. Small tables and light chairs
+    where needed._
+
+    BENSON, _alone in the room, is looking critically about her.
+    She is a neat and pretty little English lady's maid in black
+    silk and a thin apron. Still surveying the room, she moves
+    here and there, and, her eyes lighting on the box of flowers,
+    she goes to the door of_ VIDA'S _room and speaks to her._
+
+BENSON. Yes, ma'am, the flowers have come.
+
+    _She holds open the door through which_ VIDA, _in a morning
+    gown, comes in slowly. She is smoking a cigarette in as
+    aesthetic a manner as she can, and is evidently turned out in
+    her best style for conquest._
+
+VIDA. [_Faces the balcony as she speaks, and is, as always, even and
+civil, but a bit disdainful toward her servant._] Terribly garish
+light, Benson. Pull down the-- [BENSON, _obeying, partly pulls down
+the shade._] Lower still--that will do. [_As she speaks she goes about
+the room, giving the tables a push here and the chairs a jerk there,
+and generally arranging the vases and ornaments._] Men hate a clutter
+of chairs and tables. [_Stopping and taking up a hand mirror from the
+table, she faces the windows._] I really think I'm too pale for this
+light.
+
+BENSON. [_Quickly, understanding what is implied._] Yes, ma'am.
+[BENSON _goes out for the rouge, and_ VIDA _seats herself at the
+table. There is a knock at the door._] Come! [BROOKS _comes in._
+
+BROOKS. [_An ultra-English footman, in plush and calves._] Any
+horders, m'lady?
+
+VIDA. [_Incapable of remembering the last man, or of considering the
+new one._] Oh,--of course! You're the new--
+
+BROOKS. Footman, m'lady.
+
+VIDA. [_As a matter of form._] Your name?
+
+BROOKS. Brooks, m'lady. [BENSON _returns with the rouge._
+
+VIDA. [_Carefully giving instructions while she keeps her eyes on the
+glass and is rouged by_ BENSON.] Brooks, I am at home to Mr. Karslake
+at eleven; not to any one else till twelve, when I expect Sir Wilfrid
+Cates-Darby.
+
+            [BROOKS, _watching_ BENSON, _is inattentive._
+
+BROOKS. Yes, m'lady.
+
+VIDA. [_Calm, but wearied by the ignorance of the lower classes._] And
+I regret to inform you, Brooks, that in America there are no ladies,
+except salesladies!
+
+BROOKS. [_Without a trace of comprehension._] Yes, m'lady.
+
+VIDA. I am at home to no one but the two names I have mentioned.
+[BROOKS _bows and exits. She dabs on rouge while_ BENSON _holds
+glass._] Is the men's club-room in order?
+
+BENSON. Perfectly, ma'am.
+
+VIDA. Whiskey and soda?
+
+BENSON. Yes, ma'am, and the ticker's been mended. The British sporting
+papers arrived this morning.
+
+VIDA. [_Looking at her watch which lies on the dressing-table._] My
+watch has stopped.
+
+BENSON. [_Glancing at the French clock on the chimney-piece._] Five to
+eleven, ma'am.
+
+VIDA. [_Getting promptly to work._] H'm, h'm, I shall be caught.
+[_Rising._] The box of roses, Benson! [BENSON _brings the box of
+roses, uncovers the flowers and places them at_ VIDA'S _side._] My
+gloves--the clippers, and the vase! [_Each of these things_ BENSON
+_places in turn within_ VIDA'S _range where she sits on the sofa. She
+has the long box of roses at her side on a small table, a vase of
+water on the floor by her side. She cuts the stems and places the
+roses in the vase. When she feels that she has reached a picturesque
+position, in which any onlooker would see in her a creature filled
+with the love of flowers and of her fellow man, she says:_] There!
+[_The door opens and_ BROOKS _comes in;_ VIDA _nods to_ BENSON.
+
+BROOKS. [_Announcing stolidly._] Sir John Karslake.
+
+    JOHN, _dressed in very nobby riding togs, comes in gaily and
+    forcibly._ BENSON _withdraws as he enters, and is followed
+    by_ BROOKS. VIDA, _from this moment on, is busied with her
+    roses._
+
+VIDA. [_Languorously, but with a faint suggestion of humour._] Is that
+really you, Sir John?
+
+JOHN. [_Lively and far from being impressed by_ VIDA.] I see now where
+we Americans are going to get our titles. Good-morning! You look as
+fresh as paint. [_He lays his gloves and riding crop on the table, and
+takes a chair._
+
+VIDA. [_Facing the insinuation with gentle pain._] I hope you don't
+mean that? I never flattered myself for a moment you'd come. You're
+riding Cynthia K?
+
+JOHN. Fiddler's going to lead her round here in ten minutes!
+
+VIDA. Cigars and cigarettes! Scotch?
+
+            [_Indicating a small table._
+
+JOHN. Scotch! [_Goes up quickly to table and helps himself to Scotch
+and seltzer._
+
+VIDA. And now _do_ tell me all about _her_! [_Putting in her last
+roses; she keeps one rosebud in her hand, of a size suitable for a
+man's buttonhole._
+
+JOHN. [_As he drinks._] Oh, she's an adorable creature--delicate,
+high-bred, sweet-tempered--
+
+VIDA. [_Showing her claws for a moment._] Sweet-tempered? Oh, you're
+describing the horse! By "her," I meant--
+
+JOHN. [_Irritated by the remembrance of his wife._] Cynthia Karslake?
+I'd rather talk about the last Tornado.
+
+            [_He drops moodily into a chair._
+
+VIDA. [_With artful soothing._] There is only one thing I want to talk
+about, and that is, _you_! Why were you unhappy?
+
+JOHN. [_Still cross._] Why does a dollar last such a short time?
+
+VIDA. [_Curious._] Why did you part?
+
+JOHN. Did you ever see a schooner towed by a tug? Well, I parted from
+Cynthia for the same reason that the hawser parts from the tug--I
+couldn't stand the tug.
+
+VIDA. [_Sympathizing._] Ah!
+
+JOHN. [_After a pause, and still cross._] Awful cheerful morning chat.
+
+VIDA. [_Excusing her curiosity and coming back to love as the only
+subject for serious conversation._] I must hear the story, for I'm
+anxious to know why I've taken such a fancy to you!
+
+JOHN. [_Very nonchalantly._] Why do _I_ like you?
+
+VIDA. [_Doing her best to charm._] I won't tell you--it would flatter
+you too much.
+
+JOHN. [_Not a bit impressed by_ VIDA, _but humanly ready to flirt._]
+Tell me!
+
+VIDA. There's a rose for you.
+
+            [_Giving him the one she has in her hand._
+
+JOHN. [_Saying what is plainly expected of him._] I want more than a
+rose--
+
+VIDA. [_Passing over this insinuation._] You refuse to tell me--?
+
+JOHN. [_Once more reminded of_ CYNTHIA, _speaks with sudden feeling._]
+There's nothing to tell. We met, we loved, we married, we parted; or
+at least we wrangled and jangled. [_Sighs._] Ha! Why weren't we happy?
+Don't ask me, why! It may have been _partly_ my fault!
+
+VIDA. [_With tenderness._] Never!
+
+JOHN. [_His mind on_ CYNTHIA.] But I believe it's all in the way a
+girl's brought up. Our girls are brought up to be ignorant of
+life--they're ignorant of life. Life is a joke, and marriage is a
+picnic, and a man is a shawl-strap--'Pon my soul, Cynthia Deane--no,
+I can't tell you! [_In great irritation, he rises abruptly, and
+strides up and down the room._
+
+VIDA. [_Gently._] Please tell me!
+
+JOHN. Well, she was an heiress, an American heiress--and she'd been
+taught to think marriage meant burnt almonds and moonshine and a yacht
+and three automobiles, and she thought--I don't know what she thought,
+but I tell you, Mrs. Phillimore, marriage is three parts love and
+seven parts forgiveness of sins. [_He continues restlessly to pace the
+floor as he speaks of_ CYNTHIA.
+
+VIDA. [_Flattering him as a matter of second nature._] She never loved
+you.
+
+JOHN. [_On whom she has made no impression at all._] Yes, she did. For
+six or seven months there was not a shadow between us. It was perfect,
+and then one day she went off like a pistol-shot! I had a piece of law
+work and couldn't take her to see Flashlight race the Maryland mare.
+The case meant a big fee, big Kudos, and in sails Cynthia,
+Flashlight-mad! And will I put on my hat and take her? No--and bang
+she goes off like a stick o' dynamite--what did I marry her for?--and
+words--pretty high words, until she got mad, when she threw over a
+chair, and said, oh, well,--marriage was a failure, or it was with
+me, so I said she'd better try somebody else. She said she would, and
+marched out of the room.
+
+VIDA. [_Gently sarcastic._] But she came back!
+
+JOHN. She came back, but not as you mean. She stood at the door and
+said, "Jack, I shall divorce you." Then she came over to my
+study-table, dropped her wedding ring on my law papers, and went out.
+The door shut, I laughed; the front door slammed, I damned. [_After a
+silence, moving abruptly to the window._] She never came back. [_He
+turns away and then, recovering, moves toward_ VIDA, _who catches his
+hands._
+
+VIDA. [_Hoping for a contradiction._] She's broken your heart.
+
+JOHN. [_Taking a chair by the lounge._] Oh, no!
+
+VIDA. [_Encouraged, begins to play the game again._] You'll never love
+again!
+
+JOHN. [_Speaking to her from the foot of the sofa._] Try me! Try me!
+Ah, no, Mrs. Phillimore, I shall laugh, live, love and make money
+again! And let me tell you one thing--I'm going to rap her one over
+the knuckles. She had a stick of a Connecticut lawyer, and he--well,
+to cut a legal story short, since Mrs. Karslake's been in Europe, I
+have been quietly testing the validity of the decree of divorce.
+Perhaps you don't understand?
+
+VIDA. [_Displaying her innate shrewdness._] Oh, about a divorce,
+everything!
+
+JOHN. I shall hear by this evening whether the divorce will stand or
+not.
+
+VIDA. But it's to-day at three she marries--you won't let her commit
+bigamy?
+
+JOHN. [_Shaking his head._] I don't suppose I'd go as far as that. It
+may be the divorce will hold, but anyway I hope never to see her
+again.
+
+    [_He sits down beside her so that their faces are now
+    directly opposite. Taking advantage of the close range, her
+    eyes, without loss of time, open a direct fire._
+
+VIDA. Ah, my poor boy, she has broken your heart. [_Believing that
+this is her psychological moment, she lays her hand on his arm, but
+draws it back as soon as he attempts to take it._] Now don't make love
+to me.
+
+JOHN. [_Bold and amused, but never taken in._] Why not?
+
+VIDA. [_With immense gentleness._] Because I like you too much! [_More
+gaily._] I might give in, and take a notion to like you still more!
+
+JOHN. Please do!
+
+VIDA. [_With gush, and determined to be womanly at all hazards._]
+Jack, I believe you'd be a lovely lover!
+
+JOHN. [_Immensely diverted._] Try me!
+
+VIDA. [_Not hoping much from his tone._] You charming, tempting,
+delightful fellow, I could love you without the least effort in the
+world,--but, no!
+
+JOHN. [_Playing the game._] Ah, well, now _seriously!_ Between two
+people who have _suffered_ and made their own mistakes--
+
+VIDA. [_Playing the game too, but not playing it well._] But you see,
+you don't _really_ love me!
+
+JOHN. [_Still ready to say what is expected._] Cynthia--Vida, no man
+can sit beside you and look into your eyes without feeling--
+
+VIDA. [_Speaking the truth as she sees it, seeing that her methods
+don't succeed._] Oh! That's not love! That's simply--well, my dear
+Jack, it's beginning at the wrong end. And the truth is you hate
+Cynthia Karslake with such a whole-hearted hate, that you haven't a
+moment to think of any other woman.
+
+JOHN. [_With sudden anger._] I hate her!
+
+VIDA. [_Very softly and most sweetly._] Jack--Jack, I could be as
+foolish about you as--oh, as foolish as anything, my dear! And perhaps
+some day--perhaps some day you'll come to me and say, Vida, I am
+totally indifferent to Cynthia--and then--
+
+JOHN. And then?
+
+VIDA. [_The ideal woman in mind._] Then, perhaps, you and I may join
+hands and stroll together into the Garden of Eden. It takes two to
+find the Garden of Eden, you know--and once we're on the inside, we'll
+lock the gate.
+
+JOHN. [_Gaily, and seeing straight through her veneer._] And lose the
+key under a rose-bush!
+
+VIDA. [_Agreeing very softly._] Under a rose-bush! [_There is a very
+soft knock at which_ JOHN _starts up quickly._] Come! [BROOKS _comes
+in, with_ BENSON _close at his heels._
+
+BROOKS. [_Stolid, announces._] My lady--Sir Wilf-- [BENSON _stops him
+with a sharp movement and turns toward_ VIDA.
+
+BENSON. [_With intention._] Your dressmaker, ma'am. [BENSON _waves_
+BROOKS _to go and_ BROOKS _very haughtily complies._
+
+VIDA. [_Wonderingly._] My dressmaker, Benson? [_With quick
+intelligence._] Oh, of course, show her up. Mr. Karslake, you won't
+mind for a few minutes using my men's club-room? Benson will show
+you! You'll find cigars and the ticker, sporting papers, whiskey; and,
+if you want anything special, just 'phone down to my "chef."
+
+JOHN. [_Looking at his watch._] How long?
+
+VIDA. [_Very anxious to please._] Half a cigar! Benson will call you.
+
+JOHN. [_Practically-minded._] Don't make it too long. You see, there's
+my sheriff's sale on at twelve, and those races this afternoon.
+Fiddler will be here in ten minutes, remember!
+
+            [_The door opens._
+
+VIDA. [_To_ JOHN.] Run along! [JOHN _leaves and_ VIDA, _instantly
+practical, makes a broad gesture to_ BENSON.] Everything just as it
+was, Benson! [BENSON _whisks the roses out of the vase and replaces
+them in the box. She gives_ VIDA _scissors and empty vases, and, when_
+VIDA _finds herself in precisely the same position which preceded_
+JOHN'S _entrance, she says:_] There!
+
+            [BROOKS _comes in as_ VIDA _takes a rose from basket._
+
+BROOKS. [_With characteristic stolidness._] Your ladyship's
+dressmaker! M'lady! [_Enter_ SIR WILFRID _in morning suit,
+boutonniere, &c._
+
+VIDA. [_With tender surprise and busy with the roses._] Is that really
+you, Sir Wilfrid! I never flattered myself for an instant that you'd
+remember to come.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Moving to the head of the sofa._] Come? 'Course I come!
+Keen to come see you. By Jove, you know, you look as pink and white as
+a huntin' mornin'.
+
+VIDA. [_Ready to make any man as happy as possible._] You'll smoke?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Thanks! [_He watches her as she trims and arranges the
+flowers._] Awfully long fingers you have! Wish I was a rose, or a
+ring, or a pair of shears! I say, d'you ever notice what a devil of a
+fellow I am for originality, what? [_Unlike_ JOHN, _is evidently
+impressed by her._] You've got a delicate little den up here! Not so
+much low livin' and high thinkin', as low lights and no thinkin' at
+all, I hope--eh?
+
+    [_By this time_, VIDA _has filled a vase with roses and rises
+    to sweep by him and, if possible, make another charming
+    picture to his eyes._
+
+VIDA. [_Gliding gracefully past him._] You don't mind my moving about?
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Impressed._] Not if you don't mind my watchin'.
+[_Sitting down on the sofa._] And sayin' how wel you do it.
+
+VIDA. It's most original of you to come here this morning. I don't
+quite see why you did.
+
+    _She places the roses here and there, as if to see their
+    effect, and leaves them on a small table near the door
+    through which her visitors entered._
+
+SIR WILFRID. Admiration.
+
+VIDA. [_Sauntering slowly toward the mirror as she speaks._] Oh, I saw
+that you admired her! And of course, she did say she was coming here
+at eleven! But that was only bravado! She won't come, and besides,
+I've given orders to admit no one!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Attempting to dam the stream of her talk which flows
+gently but steadily on._] May I ask you--
+
+VIDA. And, indeed, if she came now, Mr. Karslake has gone, and her
+sole object in coming was to make him uncomfortable. [_She moves
+toward the table, stopping a half minute at the mirror to see that she
+looks as she wishes to look._] Very dangerous symptom, too, that
+passionate desire to make one's former husband unhappy! But, I can't
+believe that your admiration for Cynthia Karslake is so warm that it
+led you to pay me this visit a half hour too early in the hope of
+seeing--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Rising; most civil, but speaking his mind like a
+Briton._] I say, would you mind stopping a moment! [_She smiles._] I'm
+not an American, you know; I was brought up not to interrupt. But you
+Americans, it's different with you! If somebody didn't interrupt you,
+you'd go on forever.
+
+VIDA. [_Passing him to tantalize._] My point is you come to see
+Cynthia--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Believing she means it._] I came hopin' to see--
+
+VIDA. [_Provokingly._] Cynthia!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Perfectly single-minded and entirely taken in._] But I
+would have come even if I'd known--
+
+VIDA. [_Evading him, while he follows._] I don't believe it!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Protesting whole-heartedly._] Give you my word I--
+
+VIDA. [_Leading him on._] You're here to see _her_! And of course--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Determined to be heard because, after all, he's a
+man._] May I have the--eh--the floor? [VIDA _sits down in a chair._] I
+was jolly well bowled over with Mrs. Karslake, I admit that, and I
+hoped to see her here, but--
+
+VIDA. [_Talking nonsense and knowing it._] You had another object in
+coming. In fact, you came to see Cynthia, and you came to see me! What
+I really long to know is, why you wanted to see _me_! For, of course,
+Cynthia's to be married at three! And, if she wasn't she wouldn't have
+you!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Not intending to wound; merely speaking the flat
+truth._] Well, I mean to jolly well ask her.
+
+VIDA. [_Indignant._] To be your wife?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Why not?
+
+VIDA. [_Still indignant._] And you came here, to my house--in order to
+ask her--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Truthful even on a subtle point._] Oh, but that's only
+my first reason for coming, you know.
+
+VIDA. [_Concealing her hopes._] Well, now I _am_ curious--what is the
+second?
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Simply._] Are you feelin' pretty robust?
+
+VIDA. I don't know!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Crosses to the buffet._] Will you have something, and
+then I'll tell you!
+
+VIDA. [_Gaily._] Can't I support the news without--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Trying to explain his state of mind, a feat which he
+has never been able to accomplish._] Mrs. Phillimore, you see it's
+this way. Whenever you're lucky, you're too lucky. Now, Mrs. Karslake
+is a nipper and no mistake, but as I told you, the very same evenin'
+and house where I saw her--
+
+            [_He attempts to take her hand._
+
+VIDA. [_Gently rising and affecting a tender surprise._] What!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Rising with her._] That's it!--You're over! [_He
+suggests with his right hand the movement of a horse taking a hurdle._
+
+VIDA. [_Very sweetly._] You don't really mean--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Carried away for the moment by so much true
+womanliness._] I mean, I stayed awake for an hour last night, thinkin'
+about you.
+
+VIDA. [_Speaking to be contradicted._] But, you've just told me--that
+Cynthia--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Admitting the fact._] Well, she did--she did bowl my
+wicket, but so did you--
+
+VIDA. [_Taking him very gently to task._] Don't you think there's a
+limit to-- [_She sits down._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Roused by so much loveliness of soul._] Now, see here,
+Mrs. Phillimore! You and I are not bottle babies, eh, are we? You've
+been married and--I--I've knocked about, and we both know there's a
+lot of stuff talked about--eh, eh, well, you know:--the one and
+only--that a fellow can't be awfully well smashed by two at the same
+time, don't you know! All rubbish! You know it, and the proof of the
+puddin's in the eatin', I am!
+
+VIDA. [_With gentle reproach._] May I ask where I come in?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Well, now, Mrs. Phillimore, I'll be frank with you,
+Cynthia's my favourite, but you're runnin' her a close second in the
+popular esteem!
+
+VIDA. [_Laughing, determined not to take offense._] What a delightful,
+original, fantastic person you are!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Frankly happy that he has explained everything so
+neatly._] I knew you'd take it that way!
+
+VIDA. And what next, pray?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, just the usual,--eh,--thing,--the--eh--the same old
+question, don't you know. Will you have me if she don't?
+
+VIDA. [_A shade piqued, but determined not to risk showing it._] And
+you call that the same old usual question?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Yes, I know, but--but will you? I sail in a week; we can
+take the same boat. And--eh--eh--my dear Mrs.--mayn't I say Vida, I'd
+like to see you at the head of my table.
+
+VIDA. [_With velvet irony._] With Cynthia at the foot?
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Practical, as before._] Never mind Mrs. Karslake,--I
+admire her--she's--but you have your own points! And you're here, and
+so'm I!--damme I offer myself, and my affections, and I'm no icicle,
+my dear, tell you that for a fact, and,--and in fact what's your
+answer!-- [VIDA _sighs and shakes her head._] Make it, yes! I say, you
+know, my dear Vida--
+
+            [_He catches her hands._
+
+VIDA. [_Drawing them from his._] Unhand me, dear villain! And sit
+further away from your second choice! What can I say? I'd rather have
+_you_ for a lover than any man I know! You must be a lovely lover!
+
+SIR WILFRID. I am!
+
+            [_He makes a second effort to catch her fingers._
+
+VIDA. Will you kindly go further away and be good!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Quite forgetting_ CYNTHIA.] Look here, if you say yes,
+we'll be married--
+
+VIDA. In a month!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, no--this evening!
+
+VIDA. [_Incapable of leaving a situation unadorned._] This evening!
+And sail in the same boat with _you_? And shall we sail to the Garden
+of Eden and stroll into it and lock the gate on the inside and then
+lose the key--under a rose-bush?
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_After a pause and some consideration._] Yes; yes, I
+say--that's too clever for me! [_He draws nearer to her to bring the
+understanding to a crisis._
+
+VIDA. [_Interrupted by a soft knock._] My maid--come!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Swinging out of his chair and moving to the sofa._] Eh?
+
+BENSON. [_Coming in and approaching_ VIDA.] The new footman,
+ma'am--he's made a mistake. He's told the lady you're at home.
+
+VIDA. What lady?
+
+BENSON. Mrs. Karslake; and she's on the stairs, ma'am.
+
+VIDA. Show her in.
+
+    SIR WILFRID _has been turning over the roses. On hearing
+    this, he faces about with a long stemmed one in his hand. He
+    subsequently uses it to point his remarks._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_To_ BENSON, _who stops._] One moment! [_To_ VIDA.] I
+say, eh--I'd rather not see her!
+
+VIDA. [_Very innocently._] But you came here to see her.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_A little flustered._] I'd rather not. Eh,--I fancied
+I'd find you and her together--but her-- [_Coming a step nearer._]
+findin' me with you looks so dooced intimate,--no one else, d'ye see,
+I believe she'd--draw conclusions--
+
+BENSON. Pardon me, ma'am--but I hear Brooks coming!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_To_ BENSON.] Hold the door!
+
+VIDA. So you don't want her to know--?
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_To_ VIDA.] Be a good girl now--run me off somewhere!
+
+VIDA. [_To_ BENSON.] Show Sir Wilfrid the men's room.
+
+            [BROOKS _comes in._
+
+SIR WILFRID. The men's room! Ah! Oh! Eh!
+
+VIDA. [_Beckoning him to go at once._] Sir Wil-- [_He hesitates; then
+as_ BROOKS _advances, he flings off with_ BENSON.
+
+BROOKS. Lady Karslake, milady!
+
+VIDA. Anything more inopportune! I never dreamed she'd come-- [CYNTHIA
+_comes in veiled. As she walks quickly into the room_, VIDA _greets
+her languorously._] My dear Cynthia, you don't mean to say--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Rather short, and visibly agitated._] Yes, I've come.
+
+VIDA. [_Polite, but not urgent._] Do take off your veil.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Complying._] Is no one here?
+
+VIDA. [_As before._] Won't you sit down?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Agitated and suspicious._] Thanks, no--That is, yes,
+thanks. Yes! You haven't answered my question?
+
+    [CYNTHIA _waves her hand through the haze; glances
+    suspiciously at the smoke, and looks about for the
+    cigarette._
+
+VIDA. [_Playing innocence in the first degree._] My dear, what makes
+you imagine that any one's here!
+
+CYNTHIA. You've been smoking.
+
+VIDA. Oh, puffing away! [CYNTHIA _sees the glasses._
+
+CYNTHIA. And drinking--a pair of drinks? [_Her eyes lighting on_
+JOHN'S _gloves on the table at her elbow._] Do they fit you, dear?
+[VIDA _smiles;_ CYNTHIA _picks up the crop and looks at it and reads
+her own name._] "Jack, from Cynthia."
+
+VIDA. [_Without taking the trouble to double for a mere woman._] Yes,
+dear; it's Mr. Karslake's crop, but I'm happy to say he left me a few
+minutes ago.
+
+CYNTHIA. He left the house? [VIDA _smiles._] I wanted to see him.
+
+VIDA. [_With a shade of insolence._] To quarrel?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Frank and curt._] I wanted to see him.
+
+VIDA. [_Determined to put_ CYNTHIA _in the wrong._] And I sent him
+away because I didn't want you to repeat the scene of last night in my
+house.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Looks at crop and is silent._] Well, I can't stay. I'm to
+be married at three, and I had to play truant to get here!
+
+            [BENSON _comes in._
+
+BENSON. [_To_ VIDA.] There's a person, ma'am, on the sidewalk.
+
+VIDA. What person, Benson?
+
+BENSON. A person, ma'am, with a horse.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Happily agitated._] It's Fiddler with Cynthia K!
+
+            [_She walks rapidly to the window and looks out._
+
+VIDA. [_To_ BENSON.] Tell the man I'll be down in five minutes.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Looking down from the balcony with delight._] Oh, there she
+is!
+
+VIDA. [_Aside to_ BENSON.] Go to the club-room, Benson, and say to the
+two gentlemen I can't see them at present--I'll send for them when--
+
+BENSON. [_Listening._] I hear some one coming.
+
+VIDA. Quick! [BENSON _leaves the door which opens and_ JOHN _comes in
+slowly, carelessly._ VIDA _whispers to_ BENSON.
+
+BENSON. [_Moving close to_ JOHN _and whispering._] Beg par--
+
+VIDA. [_Under her breath._] Go back!
+
+JOHN. [_Not understanding._] I beg pardon!
+
+VIDA. [_Scarcely above a whisper._] Go back!
+
+JOHN. [_Dense._] Can't! I've a date! With the sheriff!
+
+VIDA. [_A little cross._] Please use your eyes.
+
+JOHN. [_Laughing and flattering_ VIDA.] I am using my eyes.
+
+VIDA. [_Fretted._] Don't you see there's a lovely creature in the
+room?
+
+JOHN. [_Not knowing what it is all about, but taking a wicked delight
+in seeing her customary calm ruffled._] Of course there is.
+
+VIDA. Hush!
+
+JOHN. [_Teasingly._] But what I want to know is--
+
+VIDA. Hush!
+
+JOHN. [_Enjoying his fun._] --is when we're to stroll in the Garden of
+Eden--
+
+VIDA. Hush!
+
+JOHN. --and lose the key. [_To put a stop to this, she lightly tosses
+her handkerchief into his face._] By George, talk about attar of
+roses!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_At window, excited and moved at seeing her mare once
+more._] Oh, she's a darling! [_Turning._] A perfect darling! [JOHN
+_starts up; he sees_ CYNTHIA _at the same instant that she sees him._]
+Oh! I didn't know you were here. [_After a pause, with
+"take-it-or-leave-it" frankness._] I came to see _you_! [JOHN _looks
+extremely dark and angry;_ VIDA _rises._
+
+VIDA. [_To_ CYNTHIA, _most gently, and seeing there's nothing to be
+gained of_ JOHN.] Oh, pray feel at home, Cynthia, dear! [_Stopping by
+the door to her bedroom; to_ JOHN.] When I've a nice street frock on,
+I'll ask you to present me to Cynthia K. [VIDA _opens the door and
+goes out._ CYNTHIA _and_ JOHN _involuntarily exchange glances._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Agitated and frank._] Of course, I told you yesterday I was
+coming here.
+
+JOHN. [_Irritated._] And I was to deny myself the privilege of being
+here?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Curt and agitated._] Yes.
+
+JOHN. [_Ready to fight._] And you guessed I would do that?
+
+CYNTHIA. No.
+
+JOHN. What?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Speaks with agitation, frankness and good will._] Jack--I
+mean, Mr. Karslake,--no, I mean, Jack! I came because--well, you see,
+it's my wedding day!--and--and--I--I--was rude to you last evening.
+I'd like to apologize and make peace with you before I go--
+
+JOHN. [_Determined to be disagreeable._] Before you go to your last,
+long home!
+
+CYNTHIA. I came to apologize.
+
+JOHN. But you'll remain to quarrel!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Still frank and kind._] I will not quarrel. No!--and I'm
+only here for a moment. I'm to be married at three, and just look at
+the clock! Besides, I told Philip I was going to Louise's shop, and I
+did--on the way here; but, you see, if I stay too long he'll telephone
+Louise and find I'm not there, and he might guess I was here. So you
+see I'm risking a scandal. And now, Jack, see here, I lay my hand on
+the table, I'm here on the square, and,--what I want to say is,
+why--Jack, even if we have made a mess of our married life, let's put
+by anger and pride. It's all over now and can't be helped. So let's be
+human, let's be reasonable, and let's be kind to each other! Won't you
+give me your hand? [JOHN _refuses._] I wish you every happiness!
+
+JOHN. [_Turning away, the past rankling._] I had a client once, a
+murderer; he told me he murdered the man, and he told me, too, that he
+never felt so kindly to anybody as he did to that man after he'd
+killed him!
+
+CYNTHIA. Jack!
+
+JOHN. [_Unforgiving._] You murdered my happiness!
+
+CYNTHIA. I won't recriminate!
+
+JOHN. And now I must put by anger and pride! I do! But not
+self-respect, not a just indignation--not the facts and my clear
+memory of them!
+
+CYNTHIA. Jack!
+
+JOHN. No!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With growing emotion, and holding out her hand._] I give
+you one more chance! Yes, I'm determined to be generous. I forgive
+everything you ever did to me. I'm ready to be friends. I wish you
+every happiness and every--every--horse in the world! I can't do more
+than that! [_She offers it again._] You refuse?
+
+JOHN. [_Moved but surly._] I like wildcats and I like Christians, but
+I don't like Christian wildcats! Now I'm close hauled, trot out your
+tornado! Let the Tiger loose! It's the tamer, the man in the cage that
+has to look lively and use the red hot crowbar! But, by Jove, I'm out
+of the cage! I'm a mere spectator of the married circus! [_He puffs
+vigorously._
+
+CYNTHIA. Be a game sport then! Our marriage was a wager; you wagered
+you could live with me. You lost; you paid with a divorce; and now is
+the time to show your sporting blood. Come on, shake hands and part
+friends.
+
+JOHN. Not in this world! Friends with you, no! I have a proper pride.
+I don't propose to put my pride in my pocket.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Jealous and plain spoken._] Oh, I wouldn't ask you to put
+your pride in your pocket while Vida's handkerchief is there. [JOHN
+_looks angered._] Pretty little bijou of a handkerchief! [_Pulling out
+the handkerchief._] And she is charming, and divorced, and reasonably
+well made up.
+
+JOHN. Oh, well, Vida is a woman. [_Toying with the handkerchief._] I'm
+a man, a handkerchief is a handkerchief, and, as some old Aristotle or
+other said, whatever concerns a woman, concerns me!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Not oblivious of him, but in a low voice._] Insufferable!
+Well, yes. [_She sits down. She is too much wounded to make any
+further appeal._] You're perfectly right. There's no possible harmony
+between divorced people! I withdraw my hand and all good feeling. No
+wonder I couldn't stand you. Eh? However, that's pleasantly past! But
+at least, my dear Karslake, let us have some sort of beauty behaviour!
+If we cannot be decent, let us endeavour to be graceful. If we can't
+be moral, at least we can avoid being vulgar.
+
+JOHN. Well--
+
+CYNTHIA. If there's to be no more marriage in the world--
+
+JOHN. [_Cynically._] Oh, but that's not it; there's to be more and
+more and more!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With a touch of bitterness._] Very well! I repeat then, if
+there's to be nothing but marriage and divorce, and re-marriage, and
+re-divorce, at least, at least, those who _are_ divorced can avoid the
+vulgarity of meeting each other here, there, and everywhere!
+
+JOHN. Oh, that's where you come out!
+
+CYNTHIA. I thought so yesterday, and to-day I know it. It's an
+insufferable thing to a woman of any delicacy of feeling to find her
+husband--
+
+JOHN. Ahem--former!
+
+CYNTHIA. _Once_ a husband always--
+
+JOHN. [_In the same cynical tone._] Oh, no! Oh, dear, no.
+
+CYNTHIA. To find her--to find the man she has once lived with--in the
+house of--making love to--to find you here! [JOHN _smiles and rises._]
+You smile,--but I say, it should be a social axiom, no woman should
+have to meet her former husband.
+
+JOHN. [_Cynical and cutting._] Oh, I don't know; after I've served my
+term I don't mind meeting my jailor.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_As_ JOHN _takes chair near her._] It's indecent--at the
+horse-show, the opera, at races and balls, to meet the man who
+once--It's not civilized! It's fantastic! It's half baked! Oh, I never
+should have come here! [_He sympathizes, and she grows irrational and
+furious._] But it's entirely your fault!
+
+JOHN. My fault?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Working herself into a rage._] Of course. What business
+have you to be about--to be at large. To be at all!
+
+JOHN. Gosh!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Her rage increasing._] To be where I am! Yes, it's just as
+horrible for you to turn up in my life as it would be for a dead
+person to insist on coming back to life and dinner and bridge!
+
+JOHN. Horrid idea!
+
+CYNTHIA. Yes, but it's _you_ who behave just as if you were not dead,
+just as if I'd not spent a fortune on your funeral. You do; you
+prepare to bob up at afternoon teas,--and dinners--and embarrass me to
+death with your extinct personality!
+
+JOHN. Well, of course we _were_ married, but it didn't quite kill me.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Angry and plain spoken._] You killed yourself for me--I
+divorced you. I buried you out of my life. If any human soul was ever
+dead, you are! And there's nothing I so hate as a gibbering ghost.
+
+JOHN. Oh, I say!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With hot anger._] Go gibber and squeak where gibbering and
+squeaking are the fashion!
+
+JOHN. [_Laughing and pretending to a coldness he does not feel._] And
+so, my dear child, I'm to abate myself as a nuisance! Well, as far as
+seeing you is concerned, for my part it's just like seeing a horse
+who's chucked you once. The bruises are O. K., and you see him with a
+sort of easy curiosity. Of course, you know, he'll jolly well chuck
+the next man!--Permit me! [JOHN _picks up her gloves, handkerchief and
+parasol, and gives her these as she drops them one by one in her
+agitation._] There's pleasure in the thought.
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh!
+
+JOHN. And now, may I ask you a very simple question? Mere curiosity on
+my part, but, why did you come here this morning?
+
+CYNTHIA. I have already explained that to you.
+
+JOHN. Not your real motive. Permit me!
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh!
+
+JOHN. But I believe I have guessed your real--permit me--your real
+motive!
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh!
+
+JOHN. [_With mock sympathy._] Cynthia, I am sorry for you.
+
+CYNTHIA. H'm?
+
+JOHN. Of course we had a pretty lively case of the fever--the mutual
+attraction fever, and we _were_ married a very short time. And I
+conclude that's what's the matter with _you_! You see, my dear, seven
+months of married life is too short a time to cure a bad case of the
+fancies.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_In angry surprise._] What?
+
+JOHN. [_Calm and triumphant._] That's my diagnosis.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Slowly and gathering herself together._] I don't think I
+understand.
+
+JOHN. Oh, yes, you do; yes, you do.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With blazing eyes._] What do you mean?
+
+JOHN. Would you mind not breaking my crop! Thank you! I mean [_With
+polite impertinence._] that ours was a case of premature divorce, and,
+ahem, you're in love with me still.
+
+    _He pauses._ CYNTHIA _has one moment of fury, then she
+    realizes at what a disadvantage this places her. She makes an
+    immense effort, recovers her calm, thinks hard for a moment
+    more, and then, has suddenly an inspiration._
+
+CYNTHIA. Jack, some day you'll get the blind staggers from conceit.
+No, I'm not in love with you, Mr. Karslake, but I shouldn't be at all
+surprised if she were. She's just your sort, you know. She's a
+man-eating shark, and you'll be a toothsome mouthful. Oh, come now,
+Jack, what a silly you are! Oh, yes, you are, to get off a joke like
+that; me--in love with--
+
+            [_She looks at him._
+
+JOHN. Why are you here? [_She laughs and begins to play her game._]
+Why are you here?
+
+CYNTHIA. Guess! [_She laughs._
+
+JOHN. Why are you--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Quickly._] Why am I here! I'll tell you. I'm going to be
+married. I had a longing, an irresistible longing to see you make an
+ass of yourself just once more! It happened!
+
+JOHN. [_Uncertain and discomfited._] I know better!
+
+CYNTHIA. But I came for a serious purpose, too. I came, my dear
+fellow, to make an experiment on myself. I've been with you thirty
+minutes; and-- [_She sighs with content._] It's all right!
+
+JOHN. What's all right?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Calm and apparently at peace with the world._] I'm immune.
+
+JOHN. Immune?
+
+CYNTHIA. You're not catching any more! Yes, you see, I said to myself,
+if I fly into a temper--
+
+JOHN. You did!
+
+CYNTHIA. If I fly into a temper when I see him, well, that shows I'm
+not yet so entirely convalescent that I can afford to have Jack
+Karslake at my house. If I remain calm I shall ask him to dinner.
+
+JOHN. [_Routed._] Ask me if you dare! [_He rises._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Getting the whip hand for good._] Ask you to dinner? Oh, my
+dear fellow. [JOHN _rises._] I'm going to do much more than that.
+[_She rises._] We must be friends, old man! We must meet, we must meet
+often, we must show New York the way the thing should be done, and, to
+show you I mean it--I want you to be my best man, and give me away
+when I'm married this afternoon.
+
+JOHN. [_Incredulous and impatient._] You don't mean that!
+
+            [_He pushes back his chair._
+
+CYNTHIA. There you are! Always suspicious!
+
+JOHN. You don't mean that!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Hiding her emotion under a sportswoman's manner._] Don't I?
+I ask you, come! And come as you are! And I'll lay my wedding gown to
+Cynthia K that you won't be there! If you're there, you get the gown,
+and if you're not, I get Cynthia K!--
+
+JOHN. [_Determined not to be worsted._] I take it!
+
+CYNTHIA. Done! Now, then, we'll see which of us two is the real
+sporting goods! Shake! [_They shake hands on it._] Would you mind
+letting me have a plain soda? [JOHN _goes to the table, and, as he is
+rattled and does not regard what he is about, he fills the glass
+three-fourths full with whiskey. He gives this to_ CYNTHIA _who looks
+him in the eye with an air of triumph._] Thanks. [_Maliciously, as_
+VIDA _enters._] Your hand is a bit shaky. I think _you_ need a little
+King William. [JOHN _shrugs his shoulders, and, as_ VIDA _immediately
+speaks,_ CYNTHIA _defers drinking._
+
+VIDA. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] My dear, I'm sorry to tell you your husband--I
+mean, my husband--I mean Philip--he's asking for you over the 'phone.
+You must have said you were coming here. Of course, I told him you
+were not here, and hung up.
+
+BENSON. [_Entering hurriedly and at once moving to_ VIDA.] Ma'am, the
+new footman's been talking with Mr. Phillimore on the wire. [VIDA,
+_gesture of regret._] He told Mr. Phillimore that his lady was here,
+and, if I can believe my ears, ma'am, he's got Sir Wilfrid on the
+'phone now!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Making his appearance, perplexed and annoyed._] I say,
+y' know--extraordinary country; that old chap, Phillimore, he's been
+damned impertinent over the wire! Says I've run off with Mrs.
+Karslake--talks about "Louise!" Now, who the dooce is Louise? He's
+comin' round here, too--I said Mrs. Karslake wasn't here-- [_Seeing_
+CYNTHIA.] Hello! Good job! What a liar I am!
+
+BENSON. [_Coming to the door. To_ VIDA.] Mr. Fiddler, ma'am, says the
+mare is gettin' very restive.
+
+    [JOHN _hears this and moves at once_. BENSON _withdraws._
+
+JOHN. [_To_ VIDA.] If that mare's restive, she'll break out in a rash.
+
+VIDA. [_To_ JOHN.] Will you take me?
+
+JOHN. Of course. [_They go to the door._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_To_ JOHN.] Tata, old man! Meet you at the altar! If I
+don't, the mare's mine!
+
+            [SIR WILFRID _looks at her amazed._
+
+VIDA. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Do the honours, dear, in my absence!
+
+JOHN. Come along, come along, never mind them! A horse is a horse!
+
+    JOHN _and_ VIDA _go out gaily and in haste. At the same
+    moment_ CYNTHIA _drinks what she supposes to be her glass of
+    plain soda. As it is whiskey straight, she is seized with
+    astonishment and a fit of coughing._ SIR WILFRID _relieves
+    her of the glass._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Indicating the contents of the glass._] I say, do you
+ordinarily take it as high up--as seven fingers and two thumbs.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Coughing._] Jack poured it out. Just shows how groggy he
+was! And now, Sir Wilfrid--
+
+            [_She gets her things to go._
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, you can't go!
+
+            [BROOKS _appears at the door._
+
+CYNTHIA. I am to be married at three.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Let him wait. [_Aside to_ BROOKS, _whom he meets near the
+door._] If Mr. Phillimore comes, bring his card up.
+
+BROOKS. [_Going._] Yes, Sir Wilfrid.
+
+SIR WILFRID. To me! [_Tipping him._
+
+BROOKS. [_Bowing._] To you, Sir Wilfrid. [BROOKS _goes._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Returning to_ CYNTHIA.] I've got to have my innings, y'
+know! [_Looking at her more closely._] I say, you've been crying!--
+
+CYNTHIA. King William!
+
+SIR WILFRID. You _are_ crying! Poor little gal!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Tears in her eyes._] I feel all shaken and cold.
+
+            [BROOKS _returns with a card._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Astonished and sympathetic._] Poor little gal.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Her eyes wet._] I didn't sleep a wink last night. [_With
+disgust._] Oh, what is the matter with me?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Why, it's as plain as a pikestaff! You-- [BROOKS _has
+carried in the card to_ SIR WILFRED, _who picks it up and says aside,
+to_ BROOKS:] Phillimore? [BROOKS _assents. Aloud to_ CYNTHIA, _calmly
+deceitful._] Who's Waldorf Smith? [CYNTHIA _shakes her head. To_
+BROOKS, _returning card to salver._] Tell the gentleman Mrs. Karslake
+is not here! [BROOKS _leaves the room._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Aware that she has no business where she is._] I thought it
+was Philip!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Telling the truth as if it were a lie._] So did I!
+[_With cheerful confidence._] And now, Mrs. Karslake, I'll tell you
+why you're cryin'. [_Sitting down beside her._] You're marryin' the
+wrong man! I'm sorry for you, but you're such a goose. Here you are,
+marryin' this legal luminary. What for? You don't know! He don't know!
+But I do! You pretend you're marryin' him because it's the sensible
+thing; not a bit of it. You're marryin' Mr. Phillimore because of all
+the other men you ever saw he's the least like Jack Karslake.
+
+CYNTHIA. That's a very good reason.
+
+SIR WILFRID. There's only one good reason for marrying, and that is
+because you'll die if you don't!
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh, I've tried that!
+
+SIR WILFRID. The Scripture says: "Try! try! again!" I tell you,
+there's nothing like a w'im!
+
+CYNTHIA. What's that? W'im? Oh, you mean a _whim_! Do please try and
+say W_h_im!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_For the first time emphasizing his H in the word._]
+W_h_im. You must have a w'im--w'im for the chappie you marry.
+
+CYNTHIA. I had--for Jack.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Your w'im wasn't wimmy enough, my dear! If you'd had more
+of it, and tougher, it would ha' stood, y'know! Now, I'm not
+proposin'!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Diverted at last from her own distress._] I hope not!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, I will later! It's not time yet! As I was saying--
+
+CYNTHIA. And pray, Sir Wilfrid, when will it be time?
+
+SIR WILFRID. As soon as I see you have a w'im for me! [_Rising, looks
+at his watch._] And now, I'll tell you what we'll do! We've got just
+an hour to get there in, my motor's on the corner, and in fifty
+minutes we'll be at Belmont Park.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Her sporting blood fired._] Belmont Park!
+
+SIR WILFRID. We'll do the races, and dine at Martin's--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Tempted._] Oh, if I only could! I can't! I've got to be
+married! You're awfully nice; I've almost got a "w'im" for you
+already.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Delighted._] There you are! I'll send a telegram! [_She
+shakes her head. He sits and writes at the table._
+
+CYNTHIA. No, no, no!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Reading what he has written._] "Off with Cates-Darby to
+Races. Please postpone ceremony till seven-thirty."
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh, no, it's impossible!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Accustomed to have things go his way._] No more than
+breathin'! You can't get a w'im for me, you know, unless we're
+together, so together we'll be! [JOHN KARSLAKE _opens the door, and,
+unnoticed, walks into the room._] And to-morrow you'll wake up with a
+jolly little w'im--, [_Reading._] "Postpone ceremony till
+seven-thirty." There. [_He puts on her cloak and turning, sees_ JOHN.]
+Hello!
+
+JOHN. [_Surly._] Hello! Sorry to disturb you.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Cheerful as possible._] Just the man! [_Giving him the
+telegraph form._] Just step round and send it, my boy. Thanks! [JOHN
+_reads it._
+
+CYNTHIA. No, no, I can't go!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Cockety-coo-coo-can't. I say, you must!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Positively._] _No!_
+
+JOHN. [_Astounded._] Do you mean you're going--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Very gay._] Off to the races, my boy!
+
+JOHN. [_Angry and outraged._] Mrs. Karslake can't go with you there!
+
+    CYNTHIA _starts, amazed at his assumption of marital
+    authority, and delighted that she will have an opportunity of
+    outraging his sensibilities._
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oho!
+
+JOHN. An hour before her wedding!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Gay and not angry._] May I know if it's the custom--
+
+JOHN. [_Jealous and disgusted._] It's worse than eloping--
+
+SIR WILFRID. Custom, y' know, for the husband, that was, to dictate--
+
+JOHN. [_Thoroughly vexed._] By George, there's a limit!
+
+CYNTHIA. What? What? What? [_Gathering up her things._] What did I
+hear you say?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Ah!
+
+JOHN. [_Angry._] I say there's a limit--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_More and more determined to arouse and excite_ JOHN.] Oh,
+there's a limit, is there?
+
+JOHN. There is! I bar the way! It means reputation--it means--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Enjoying her opportunity._] We shall see what it means!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Aha!
+
+JOHN. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] I'm here to protect your reputation--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] We've got to make haste, you know.
+
+CYNTHIA. Now, I'm ready--
+
+JOHN. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Be sensible. You're breaking off the match--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Excitedly._] What's that to you?
+
+SIR WILFRID. It's boots and saddles!
+
+JOHN. [_Taking his stand between them and the door._] No thoroughfare!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Look here, my boy--!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Catching at the opportunity of putting_ JOHN _in an
+impossible position._] Wait a moment, Sir Wilfrid! Give me the wire!
+[_Facing him._] Thanks! [_Taking the telegraph form from him and
+tearing it up._] There! Too rude to chuck him by wire! But you, Jack,
+you've taken on yourself to look after my interests, so I'll just ask
+you, old man, to run down to the Supreme Court and tell
+Philip--nicely, you know--I'm off with Sir Wilfrid and where! Say I'll
+be back by seven, if I'm not later! And make it clear, Jack, I'll
+marry him by eight-thirty or nine at the latest! And mind _you're_
+there, dear! And now, Sir Wilfrid, we're off.
+
+JOHN. [_Staggered and furious, giving way as they pass him._] I'm not
+the man to--to carry--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Quick and dashing._] Oh, yes, you are.
+
+JOHN. --a message from you.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Triumphant._] Oh, yes, you are; you're just exactly the
+man! [CYNTHIA _and_ SIR WILFRID _whirl out._
+
+JOHN. Great miracles of Moses!
+
+
+            CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+    SCENE. _The same as that of Act I, but the room has been
+    cleared of superfluous furniture, and arranged for a wedding
+    ceremony._ MRS. PHILLIMORE _is reclining on the sofa at the
+    right of the table,_ MISS HENEAGE _at its left._ SUDLEY _is
+    seated at the right of the table._ GRACE _is seated on the
+    sofa. There is a wedding-bell of roses, an arch of orange
+    blossoms, and, girdled by a ribbon of white, an altar of
+    calla lilies. There are cushions of flowers, alcoves of
+    flowers, vases of flowers--in short, flowers everywhere and
+    in profusion and variety. Before the altar are two cushions
+    for the couple to kneel on and, on pedestals, at each side of
+    the arch, are twin candelabra. The hangings are pink and
+    white._
+
+    _The room, first of all, and its emblems, holds the undivided
+    attention; then slowly engaging it, and in contrast to their
+    gay surroundings, the occupants. About each and everyone of
+    them, hangs a deadly atmosphere of suppressed irritation._
+
+
+SUDLEY. [_Impatiently._] All very well, my dear Sarah. But you see the
+hour. Twenty to ten! We have been here since half-past two.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. You had dinner?
+
+SUDLEY. I did not come here at two to have dinner at eight, and be
+kept waiting until ten! And, my dear Sarah, when I ask where the bride
+is--
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_With forced composure._] I have told you all I know.
+Mr. John Karslake came to the house at lunch time, spoke to Philip,
+and they left the house together.
+
+GRACE. Where is Philip?
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Feebly, irritated._] I don't wish to be censorious
+or to express an actual opinion, but I must say it's a bold bride who
+keeps her future mother-in-law waiting for eight hours. However, I
+will not venture to-- [MRS. PHILLIMORE _reclines again and fades away
+into silence._
+
+GRACE. [_Sharply and decisively._] I do! I'm sorry I went to the
+expense of a silver ice-pitcher.
+
+    MRS. PHILLIMORE _sighs._ MISS HENEAGE _keeps her temper with
+    an effort which is obvious._ THOMAS _opens the door._
+
+SUDLEY. [_To_ MRS. PHILLIMORE.] For my part, I don't believe Mrs.
+Karslake means to return here or to marry Philip at all!
+
+THOMAS. [_Coming in, and approaching_ MISS HENEAGE.] Two telegrams for
+you, ma'am! The choir boys have had their supper. [_A slight movement
+ripples the ominous calm of all._ THOMAS _steps back._
+
+SUDLEY. [_Rising._] At last we shall know!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. From the lady! Probably!
+
+    MISS HENEAGE _opens the first telegram and reads it at a
+    glance, laying it on the salver again with a look at_ SUDLEY.
+    THOMAS _passes the salver to_ SUDLEY, _who takes the
+    telegram._
+
+GRACE. There's a toot now.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Feebly, confused._] I don't wish to intrude, but
+really I cannot imagine Philip marrying at midnight. [_As_ SUDLEY
+_reads_, MISS HENEAGE _opens the second telegram, but does not read
+it._
+
+SUDLEY. [_Reading._] "Accident, auto struck"--something!
+"Gasoline"--did something--illegible, ah! [_Reads._] "Home by nine
+forty-five! Hold the church!"
+
+            [_A general movement sets in._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Profoundly shocked._] "Hold the church!" William, she
+still means to marry Philip! and to-night, too!
+
+SUDLEY. It's from Belmont Park.
+
+GRACE. [_Making a great discovery._] She went to the races!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. This is from Philip! [_Reading the second telegram._] "I
+arrive at ten o'clock. Have dinner ready." [MISS HENEAGE _motions to_
+Thomas, _who, obeying, retires. Looking at her watch._] They are both
+due now. [_Movement._] What's to be done? [_She rises and_ SUDLEY
+_shrugs his shoulders._
+
+SUDLEY. [_Rising._] After a young woman has spent her wedding day at
+the races? Why, I consider that she has broken the engagement,--and
+when she comes, tell her so.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. I'll telephone Matthew. The choir boys can go home--her
+maid can pack her belongings--and when the lady arrives--
+
+    _Impudently, the very distant toot of an auto-horn breaks in
+    upon her words, producing, in proportion to its growing
+    nearness, an increasing pitch of excitement and indignation._
+    GRACE _flies to the door and looks out._ MRS. PHILLIMORE,
+    _helpless, does not know what to do or where to go or what to
+    say._ SUDLEY _moves about excitedly._ MISS HENEAGE _stands
+    ready to make herself disagreeable._
+
+GRACE. [_Speaking rapidly and with excitement._] I hear a man's voice.
+Cates-Darby and brother Matthew.
+
+    _A loud and brazenly insistent toot outrages afresh. Laughter
+    and voices outside are heard faintly._ GRACE _looks out of
+    the door, and, as quickly withdraws._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Outrageous!
+
+SUDLEY. Disgraceful!
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. Shocking! [_Partly rising as the voices and horn are
+heard._] I shall not take any part at all, in the--eh--
+
+            [_She fades away._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Interrupting her._] Don't trouble yourself.
+
+    _Through the growing noise of voices and laughter,_ CYNTHIA'S
+    _voice is heard._ SIR WILFRID _is seen in the outer hall. He
+    is burdened with wraps, not to mention a newspaper and
+    parasol, which in no wise check his flow of gay remarks to_
+    CYNTHIA, _who is still outside._ CYNTHIA'S _voice, and now_
+    MATTHEW'S, _reach those inside, and, at last, both join_ SIR
+    WILFRID, _who has turned at the door to wait for them. As she
+    reaches the door_, CYNTHIA _turns and speaks to_ MATTHEW,
+    _who immediately follows her. She is in automobile attire,
+    wearing goggles, a veil, and an exquisite duster of latest
+    Paris style. They come in with a subdued bustle and noise. As
+    their eyes light on_ CYNTHIA, SUDLEY _and_ MISS HENEAGE
+    _exclaim, and there is a general movement._
+
+SUDLEY. 'Pon my word!
+
+GRACE. Hah!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Bristling up to her feet, her sensibilities
+outraged._] Shocking!
+
+    GRACE _remains standing above sofa._ SUDLEY _moves toward
+    her_, MISS HENEAGE _sitting down again._ MRS. PHILLIMORE
+    _reclines on sofa._ CYNTHIA _begins to speak as soon as she
+    appears and speaks fluently to the end._
+
+CYNTHIA. No! I never was so surprised in my life, as when I strolled
+into the paddock and they gave me a rousing reception--old Jimmy
+Withers, Debt Gollup, Jack Deal, Monty Spiffles, the Governor and
+Buckeye. All of my old admirers! They simply fell on my neck, and,
+dear Matthew, what do you think I did? I turned on the water main!
+[_There are movements and murmurs of disapprobation from the family._
+MATTHEW _indicates a desire to go._] Oh, but you can't go!
+
+MATTHEW. I'll return in no time!
+
+CYNTHIA. I'm all ready to be married. Are they ready? [MATTHEW _waves
+a pious, polite gesture of recognition to the family._] I beg
+everybody's pardon! [_Taking off her wrap and putting it on the back
+of a chair._] My goggles are so dusty, I can't see who's who! [_To_
+SIR WILFRID.] Thanks! You _have_ carried it well! [_She takes the
+parasol from_ SIR WILFRID.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Aside to_ CYNTHIA.] When may I--?
+
+CYNTHIA. See you next Goodwood!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Imperturbably._] Oh, I'm coming back!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Advancing a bit toward the family._] Not a bit of use in
+coming back! I shall be married before you get here! Ta! Ta! Goodwood!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Not in the least affected._] I'm coming back. [_He goes
+out quickly. There are more murmurs of disapprobation from the family.
+There is a slight pause._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Beginning to take off her goggles, and moving nearer "the
+family."_] I do awfully apologize for being so late!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Importantly._] Mrs. Karslake--
+
+SUDLEY. [_Importantly._] Ahem! [CYNTHIA _lays down goggles, and sees
+their severity._
+
+CYNTHIA. Dear me! [_Surveying the flowers and for a moment
+speechless._] Oh, good heavens! Why, it looks like a smart funeral!
+
+    MISS HENEAGE _moves; then speaks in a perfectly ordinary
+    natural tone, but her expression is severe._ CYNTHIA
+    _immediately realizes the state of affairs in its fullness._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] After what has occurred, Mrs. Karslake--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Glances quietly toward the table, and then sits down at it,
+composed and good-tempered._] I see you got my wire--so you know where
+I have been.
+
+MISS HENEAGE. To the race-course!
+
+SUDLEY. With a rowdy Englishman. [CYNTHIA _glances at_ SUDLEY,
+_uncertain whether he means to be disagreeable, or whether he is only
+naturally so._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. We concluded you desired to break the engagement!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Indifferently._] No! No! Oh! No!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Do you intend, despite of our opinion of you--
+
+CYNTHIA. The only opinion that would have any weight with me would be
+Mrs. Phillimore's.
+
+            [_She turns expectantly to_ MRS. PHILLIMORE.
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. I am generally asleep at this hour, and, accordingly,
+I will not venture to express any--eh--any--actual opinion. [_She
+fades away._ CYNTHIA _smiles._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Coldly._] You smile. We simply inform you that as
+regards _us_, the alliance is not grateful.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Affecting gaiety and unconcern._] And all this because the
+gasoline gave out.
+
+SUDLEY. My patience has given out!
+
+GRACE. So has mine. I'm going.
+
+            [_She makes good her word._
+
+SUDLEY. [_Vexed beyond civility. To_ CYNTHIA.] My dear young lady: You
+come here, to this sacred--eh--eh--spot--altar!-- [_Gesture._]
+odoriferous of the paddock!--speaking of Spiffles and Buckeye,--having
+practically eloped!--having created a scandal, and disgraced our
+family!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Affecting surprise at this attitude._] How does it disgrace
+you? Because I like to see a high-bred, clean, nervy, sweet little
+four-legged gee play the antelope over a hurdle!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Sister, it is high time that you--
+
+            [_She turns to_ CYNTHIA _with a gesture._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With quiet irony._] Mrs. Phillimore is generally asleep at
+this hour, and accordingly she will not venture to express--
+
+SUDLEY. [_Spluttering with irritation._] Enough, madam--I _venture_
+to--to--to--to say, you are leading a fast life.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With powerful intention._] Not in this house! For six heavy
+weeks have I been laid away in the grave, and I've found it very slow
+indeed trying to keep pace with the dead!
+
+SUDLEY. [_Despairingly._] This comes of horses!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Indignant._] Of what?
+
+SUDLEY. C-c-caring for horses!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_With sublime morality._] What Mrs. Karslake cares for
+is--men.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Angry and gay._] What would you have me care for? The
+Ornithorhyncus Paradoxus? or Pithacanthropus Erectus? Oh, I refuse to
+take you seriously. [SUDLEY _begins to prepare to leave; he buttons
+himself into respectability and his coat._
+
+SUDLEY. My dear madam, I take myself seriously--and madam, I--I
+retract what I have brought with me [_Feeling in his waistcoat
+pocket._] as a graceful gift,--an Egyptian scarab--a--a--sacred
+beetle, which once ornamented the person of a--eh--mummy.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Scoring in return._] It should never be absent from your
+pocket, Mr. Sudley! [SUDLEY _walks away in a rage._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Rising, to_ SUDLEY.] I've a vast mind to withdraw my--
+[CYNTHIA _moves._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Interrupts; maliciously._] Your wedding present? The little
+bronze cat!
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_Moves, angrily._] Oh! [_Even_ MRS. PHILLIMORE _comes
+momentarily to life, and expresses silent indignation._
+
+SUDLEY. [_Loftily._] Sarah, I'm going.
+
+    GRACE, _who has met_ PHILIP, _takes occasion to accompany him
+    into the room._ PHILIP _looks dusty and grim. As they come
+    in_, GRACE _speaks to him, and_ PHILIP _shakes his head. They
+    pause near the door._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Emotionally._] I shall go to my room! However, all I ask is
+that you repeat to Philip-- [_As she moves toward the door, she comes
+suddenly upon_ PHILIP, _and speaks to him in a low voice._
+
+SUDLEY. [_To_ MISS HENEAGE, _determined to win._] As I go out, I shall
+do myself the pleasure of calling a hansom for Mrs. Karslake-- [PHILIP
+_moves slightly from the door._
+
+PHILIP. As you go out, Sudley, have a hansom called, and when it
+comes, get into it.
+
+SUDLEY. [_Furious._] Eh,--eh,--my dear sir, I leave you to your fate.
+[PHILIP _angrily points him the door and_ SUDLEY _leaves in great
+haste._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. [_With weight._] Philip, you've not heard--
+
+PHILIP. [_Interrupting._] Everything--from Grace! My sister has
+repeated your words to me--and her own! I've told her what I think of
+_her_. [PHILIP _looks witheringly at_ GRACE.
+
+GRACE. I shan't wait to hear any more.
+
+            [_She flounces out of the room._
+
+PHILIP. Don't make it necessary for me to tell you what I think of
+you. [PHILIP _moves to the right, toward his mother, to whom he gives
+his arm._ MISS HENEAGE _immediately seeks the opposite side._] Mother,
+with your permission, I desire to be alone. I expect both you and
+Grace, Sarah, to be dressed and ready for the ceremony a half hour
+from now. [_As_ PHILIP _and_ MRS. PHILLIMORE _are about to go out_,
+MISS HENEAGE _speaks._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. I shall come or not as I see fit. And let me add, my
+dear brother, that a fool at forty is a fool indeed. [MISS HENEAGE,
+_high and mighty, goes out, much pleased with her quotation._
+
+MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Stupid and weary as usual, to_ PHILIP, _as he leads
+her to the door._] My dear son--I won't venture to express-- [CYNTHIA,
+_in irritation, moves to the table._
+
+PHILIP. [_Soothing a silly mother._] No, mother, don't! But I shall
+expect you, of course, at the ceremony. [MRS. PHILLIMORE _languidly
+retires._ PHILIP _strides to the centre of the room, taking the tone,
+and assuming the attitude of, the injured husband._] It is proper for
+me to tell you that I followed you to Belmont. I am aware--I know with
+whom--in fact, _I know all_! [_He punctuates his words with pauses,
+and indicates the whole censorious universe._] And now let me assure
+you--I am the last man in the world to be jilted on the very eve
+of--of--everything with you. I won't be jilted. [CYNTHIA _is silent._]
+You understand? I propose to marry you. I won't be made ridiculous.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Glancing at_ PHILIP.] Philip, I didn't mean to make you--
+
+PHILIP. Why, then, did you run off to Belmont Park with that fellow?
+
+CYNTHIA. Philip, I--eh--
+
+PHILIP. [_Sitting down at the table._] What motive? What reason? On
+our wedding day? Why did you do it?
+
+CYNTHIA. I'll tell you the truth. I was bored.
+
+PHILIP. [_Staggered._] Bored? In my company?
+
+CYNTHIA. I was bored, and then--and besides, Sir Wilfrid asked me to
+go.
+
+PHILIP. Exactly, and that was why you went. Cynthia, when you promised
+to marry me, you told me you had forever done with love. You agreed
+that marriage was the rational coming together of two people.
+
+CYNTHIA. I know, I know!
+
+PHILIP. Do you believe that now?
+
+CYNTHIA. I don't know what I believe. My brain is in a whirl! But,
+Philip, I am beginning to be--I'm afraid--yes, I am afraid that one
+can't just select a great and good man [_Indicating him._] and say: I
+will be happy with him.
+
+PHILIP. [_With complacent dignity._] I don't see why not. You must
+assuredly do one or the other: You must either let your heart choose
+or your head select.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Gravely._] No, there's a third scheme: Sir Wilfrid
+explained the theory to me. A woman should marry whenever she has a
+whim for the man, and then leave the rest to the man. Do you see?
+
+PHILIP. [_Furious._] Do I see? Have I ever seen any thing else? Marry
+for whim! That's the New York idea of marriage.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Observing cynically._] New York ought to know.
+
+PHILIP. Marry for whim and leave the rest to the divorce court! Marry
+for whim and leave the rest to the man. That was the former Mrs.
+Phillimore's idea. Only she spelled "whim" differently; she omitted
+the "w." [_He rises in his anger._] And now you--_you_ take up with
+this preposterous-- [CYNTHIA _moves uneasily._] But, nonsense! It's
+impossible! A woman of your mental calibre--No. Some obscure,
+primitive, female _feeling_ is at work corrupting your better
+judgment! What is it you _feel_?
+
+CYNTHIA. Philip, you never felt like a fool, did you?
+
+PHILIP. No, never.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Politely._] I thought not.
+
+PHILIP. No, but whatever your feelings, I conclude you are ready to
+marry me.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Uneasy._] Of course, I came back. I am here, am I not?
+
+PHILIP. You are ready to marry me?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Twisting in the coils._] But you haven't had your dinner.
+
+PHILIP. Do I understand you refuse?
+
+CYNTHIA. Couldn't we defer--?
+
+PHILIP. You refuse?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Desperately thinking of an escape from her promise, and
+finding none._] No, I said I'd marry you. I'm a woman of my word. I
+will.
+
+PHILIP. [_Triumphant._] Ah! Very good, then. Run to your room.
+[CYNTHIA _turns to_ PHILIP.] Throw something over you. In a half hour
+I'll expect you here! And Cynthia, my dear, remember! I cannot
+cuculate like a wood-pigeon, but--I esteem you!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Hopelessly._] I think I'll go, Philip.
+
+PHILIP. I may not be fitted to play the love-bird, but--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Spiritlessly._] I think I'll go, Philip.
+
+PHILIP. I'll expect you,--in half an hour.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With leaden despair._] Yes.
+
+PHILIP. And, Cynthia, don't think any more about that fellow,
+Cates-Darby.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Amazed and disgusted by his misapprehension._] No. [_As_
+CYNTHIA _leaves_, THOMAS _comes in from the opposite door._
+
+PHILIP. [_Not seeing_ THOMAS, _and clumsily defiant._] And if I had
+that fellow, Cates-Darby, in the dock--!
+
+THOMAS. Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby.
+
+PHILIP. Sir what--what--wh-who? [SIR WILFRID _enters in evening
+dress._ PHILIP _looks_ SIR WILFRID _in the face and speaks to_
+THOMAS.] Tell Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby I am not at home to him. [THOMAS
+_is embarrassed._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Undaunted._] My dear Lord Eldon--
+
+PHILIP. [_Again addressing_ THOMAS.] Show the gentleman the door.
+[_There is a pause._ SIR WILFRID, _with a significant gesture, glances
+at the door._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Moving to the door, he examines it and returns to_
+PHILIP.] Eh,--I admire the door, my boy! Fine, old carved mahogany
+panel; but don't ask me to leave by it, for Mrs. Karslake made me
+promise I'd come, and that's why I'm here.
+
+            [THOMAS _does not wait for further orders._
+
+PHILIP. Sir, you are--impudent--!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Interrupting._] Ah, you put it all in a nutshell, don't
+you?
+
+PHILIP. To show your face here, after practically eloping with my
+wife!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Affecting ignorance._] When were you married?
+
+PHILIP. We are as good as married.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, pooh, pooh! You can't tell me that grace before soup
+is as good as a dinner! [_He takes out his cigar-case and, in the
+absence of a match, enjoys a smokeless smoke._
+
+PHILIP. Sir--I--demand--
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Calmly carrying the situation._] Mrs. Karslake is _not_
+married. _That's_ why I'm here. I am here for the same purpose _you_
+are; to ask Mrs. Karslake to be my wife.
+
+PHILIP. Are you in your senses?
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Pricking his American cousin's pet vanity._] Come,
+come, Judge--you Americans have no sense of humour. [_Taking a small
+jewel-case from his pocket._] There's my regards for the lady--and
+[_Reasonably._], if I must go, I will. Of course, I would like to see
+her, but--if it isn't your American custom--
+
+THOMAS. [_Opens the door and announces._] Mr. Karslake.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, well, I say; if he can come, I can!
+
+    JOHN KARSLAKE, _in evening dress, comes in quickly, carrying
+    a large and very smart bride's bouquet, which he hands to_
+    PHILIP, _who stands transfixed. Because it never occurs to
+    him to refuse it or chuck it away_, PHILIP _accepts the
+    bouquet gingerly, but frees himself of it at the first
+    available moment._ JOHN _walks to the centre of the room.
+    Deep down he is feeling wounded and unhappy. But, as he knows
+    his coming to the ceremony on whatever pretext is a social
+    outrage, he carries it off by assuming an air of its being
+    the most natural thing in the world. He controls the
+    expression of his deeper emotion, but the pressure of this
+    keeps his face grave, and he speaks with effort._
+
+JOHN. My compliments to the bride, Judge.
+
+PHILIP. [_Angry._] And you, too, have the effrontery?
+
+SIR WILFRID. There you are!
+
+JOHN. [_Pretending ease._] Oh, call it friendship--
+
+            [THOMAS _leaves._
+
+PHILIP. [_Puts bouquet on table. Ironically._] I suppose Mrs.
+Karslake--
+
+JOHN. She wagered me I wouldn't give her away, and of course--
+
+    _Throughout his stay_ JOHN _hides the emotions he will not
+    show behind a daring irony. Under its effects_, PHILIP, _on
+    his right, walks about in a fury._ SIR WILFRID, _sitting down
+    on the edge of the table, is gay and undisturbed._
+
+PHILIP. [_Taking a step toward_ JOHN.] You will oblige me--both of
+you--by immediately leaving--
+
+JOHN. [_Smiling and going to_ PHILIP.] Oh, come, come, Judge--suppose
+I _am_ here? Who has a better right to attend his wife's obsequies!
+Certainly, I come as a mourner--for _you_!
+
+SIR WILFRID. I say, is it the custom?
+
+JOHN. No, no--of course it's not the custom, no. But we'll make it the
+custom. After all,--what's a divorced wife among friends?
+
+PHILIP. Sir, your humour is strained!
+
+JOHN. Humour,--Judge?
+
+PHILIP. It is, sir, and I'll not be bantered! Your both being here
+is--it is--gentlemen, there is a decorum which the stars in their
+courses do not violate.
+
+JOHN. Now, Judge, never you mind what the stars do in their divorces!
+Get down to earth of the present day. Rufus Choate and Daniel Webster
+are dead. You must be modern. You must let peroration and poetry
+alone! Come along now. Why shouldn't I give the lady away?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Hear! Hear! Oh, I beg your pardon!
+
+JOHN. And why shouldn't we both be here? American marriage is a new
+thing. We've got to strike the pace, and the only trouble is, Judge,
+that the judiciary have so messed the thing up that a man can't be
+sure he _is_ married until he's divorced. It's a sort of
+marry-go-round, to be sure! But let it go at that! Here we all are,
+and we're ready to marry my wife to you, and start her on her way to
+him!
+
+PHILIP. [_Brought to a standstill._] Good Lord! Sir, you cannot trifle
+with monogamy!
+
+JOHN. Now, now, Judge, monogamy is just as extinct as knee-breeches.
+The new woman has a new idea, and the new idea is--well, it's just the
+opposite of the old Mormon one. Their idea is one man, ten wives and a
+hundred children. Our idea is one woman, a hundred husbands and one
+child.
+
+PHILIP. Sir, this is polyandry.
+
+JOHN. Polyandry? A hundred to one it's polyandry; and that's it,
+Judge! Uncle Sam has established consecutive polyandry,--but there's
+got to be an interval between husbands! The fact is, Judge, the modern
+American marriage is like a wire fence. The woman's the wire--the
+posts are the husbands. [_He indicates himself, and then_ SIR WILFRID
+_and_ PHILIP.] One--two--three! And if you cast your eye over the
+future you can count them, post after post, up hill, down dale, all
+the way to Dakota!
+
+PHILIP. All very amusing, sir, but the fact remains--
+
+JOHN. [_Going to_ PHILIP _who at once moves away._] Now, now, Judge, I
+like you. But you're asleep; you're living in the dark ages. You want
+to call up Central. "Hello, Central! Give me the present time, 1906,
+New York!"
+
+SIR WILFRID. Of course you do, and--there you are!
+
+PHILIP. [_Heavily._] There I am not, sir! And-- [_To_ JOHN.] as for Mr.
+Karslake's ill-timed jocosity,--sir, in the future--
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, hang the future!
+
+PHILIP. I begin to hope, Sir Wilfrid, that in the future I shall have
+the pleasure of hanging you! [_To_ JOHN.] And as to you, sir, your
+insensate idea of giving away your own--your former--my--your--oh!
+Good Lord! This is a nightmare! [_He turns to go in despair._ MATTHEW,
+_coming in, meets him, and stops him at the door._
+
+MATTHEW. [_To_ PHILIP.] My dear brother, Aunt Sarah Heneage refuses to
+give Mrs. Karslake away, unless you yourself,--eh--
+
+PHILIP. [_As he goes out._] No more! I'll attend to the matter! [_The_
+CHOIR BOYS _are heard practising in the next room._
+
+MATTHEW. [_Mopping his brow._] How do you both do? My aunt has made me
+very warm. [_Ringing the bell._] You hear our choir practising--sweet
+angel boys! H'm! H'm! Some of the family will not be present. I am
+very fond of you, Mr. Karslake, and I think it admirably Christian of
+you to have waived your--eh--your--eh--that is, now that I look at it
+more narrowly, let me say, that in the excitement of pleasurable
+anticipation, I forgot, Karslake, that your presence might occasion
+remark-- [THOMAS _responds to his ring._] Thomas! I left, in the hall,
+a small hand-bag or satchel containing my surplice.
+
+THOMAS. Yes, sir. Ahem!
+
+MATTHEW. You must really find the hand-bag at once.
+
+            [THOMAS _turns to go, when he stops startled._
+
+THOMAS. Yes, sir. [_Announcing in consternation._] Mrs. Vida
+Phillimore. [VIDA PHILLIMORE, _in full evening dress, steps gently up
+to_ MATTHEW.
+
+MATTHEW. [_Always piously serene._] Ah, my dear child! Now this is
+just as it should be! That is, eh-- [_He walks to the centre of the
+room with her_, VIDA, _the while, pointedly disregarding_ SIR
+WILFRID.] That is, when I come to think of it--your presence might be
+deemed inauspicious.
+
+VIDA. But, my dear Matthew,--I had to come. [_Aside to him._] I have a
+reason for being here.
+
+            [THOMAS, _who has left the room, again appears._
+
+MATTHEW. [_With a helpless gesture._] But, my dear child--
+
+THOMAS. [_With sympathetic intention._] Sir, Mr. Phillimore wishes to
+have your assistance, sir--with Miss Heneage _immediately_!
+
+MATTHEW. Ah! [_To_ VIDA.] One moment! I'll return. [_To_ THOMAS.] Have
+you found the bag with my surplice?
+
+    _He goes out with_ THOMAS, _speaking._ SIR WILFRID _moves at
+    once to_ VIDA. JOHN, _moving to a better position, watches
+    the door._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_To_ VIDA.] You're just the person I most want to see!
+
+VIDA. [_With affected iciness._] Oh, no, Sir Wilfrid, Cynthia isn't
+here yet! [_She moves to the table, and_ JOHN, _his eyes on the door,
+coming toward her, she speaks to him with obvious sweetness._] Jack,
+dear, I never was so ravished to see any one.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Taken aback._] By Jove!
+
+VIDA. [_Very sweet._] I knew I should find you here!
+
+JOHN. [_Annoyed but civil._] Now don't do that!
+
+VIDA. [_Sweeter than ever._] Jack! [_They sit down._
+
+JOHN. [_Civil but plain spoken._] Don't do it!
+
+VIDA. [_In a voice dripping with honey._] Do what, Jack?
+
+JOHN. Touch me with your voice! I have troubles enough of my own. [_He
+sits not far from her; the table between them._
+
+VIDA. And I know who your troubles are! Cynthia!
+
+    [_From this moment_ VIDA _abandons_ JOHN _as an object of the
+    chase and works him into her other game._
+
+JOHN. I hate her. I don't know why I came.
+
+VIDA. You came, dear, because you couldn't stay away--you're in love
+with her.
+
+JOHN. All right, Vida, what I feel may be _love_--but all I can say
+is, if I could get even with Cynthia Karslake--
+
+VIDA. You can, dear--it's as easy as powdering one's face; all you
+have to do is to be too nice to me!
+
+JOHN. [_Looking at her inquiringly._] Eh!
+
+VIDA. Don't you realize she's jealous of you? Why did she come to my
+house this morning? She's jealous--and all you have to do--
+
+JOHN. If I can make her wince, I'll make love to you till the Heavenly
+cows come home!
+
+VIDA. Well, you see, my dear, if you make love to me it will
+[_Delicately indicating_ SIR WILFRID.] cut both ways at once!
+
+JOHN. Eh,--what! Not Cates-Darby? [_Starting._] Is that Cynthia?
+
+VIDA. Now don't get rattled and forget to make love to me.
+
+JOHN. I've got the jumps. [_Trying to follow her instructions._] Vida,
+I adore you.
+
+VIDA. Oh, you must be more convincing; that won't do at all.
+
+JOHN. [_Listening._] Is that she now?
+
+            [MATTHEW _comes in and passes to the inner room._
+
+VIDA. It's Matthew. And, Jack, dear, you'd best get the hang of it
+before Cynthia comes. You might tell me all about your divorce. That's
+a sympathetic subject. Were you able to undermine it?
+
+JOHN. No. I've got a wire from my lawyer this morning. The divorce
+holds. She's a free woman. She can marry whom she likes. [_The organ
+is heard, very softly played._] Is that Cynthia? [_He rises quickly._
+
+VIDA. It's the organ!
+
+JOHN. [_Overwhelmingly excited._] By George! I should never have come!
+I think I'll go.
+
+            [_He makes a movement toward the door._
+
+VIDA. [_Rises and follows him remonstratingly._] When I need you?
+
+JOHN. I can't stand it.
+
+VIDA. Oh, but, Jack--
+
+JOHN. Good-night!
+
+VIDA. I feel quite ill. [_Seeing that she must play her last card to
+keep him, pretends to faintness; sways and falls into his arms._] Oh!
+
+JOHN. [_In a rage, but beaten._] I believe you're putting up a fake.
+
+    _The organ swells as_ CYNTHIA _enters sweepingly, dressed in
+    full evening dress for the wedding ceremony._ JOHN, _not
+    knowing what to do, keeps his arms about_ VIDA _as a horrid
+    necessity._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Speaking as she comes in, to_ MATTHEW.] Here I am.
+Ridiculous to make it a conventional thing, you know. Come in on the
+swell of the music, and all that, just as if I'd never been married
+before. Where's Philip? [_She looks for_ PHILIP _and sees_ JOHN _with_
+VIDA _in his arms. She stops short._
+
+JOHN. [_Uneasy and embarrassed._] A glass of water! I beg your pardon,
+Mrs. Karslake-- [_The organ plays on._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Ironical and calm._] Vida!
+
+JOHN. She has fainted.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Cynically._] Fainted? [_Without pausing._] Dear, dear,
+dear, terrible! So she has. [SIR WILFRID _takes the flowers from a
+vase and prepares to sprinkle_ VIDA'S _forehead with the water it
+contains._] No, no, not her forehead, Sir Wilfrid, her frock! Sprinkle
+her best Paquin! If it's a real faint, she will not come to!
+
+VIDA. [_Coming quickly to her senses as her Paris importation is about
+to suffer._] I almost fainted.
+
+CYNTHIA. Almost!
+
+VIDA. [_Using the stock phrase as a matter of course, and reviving
+rapidly._] Where am I? [JOHN _glances at_ CYNTHIA _sharply._] Oh, the
+bride! I beg every one's pardon. Cynthia, at a crisis like this, I
+simply couldn't stay away from Philip!
+
+CYNTHIA. Stay away from Philip? [JOHN _and_ CYNTHIA _exchange
+glances._
+
+VIDA. Your arm, Jack; and lead me where there is air.
+
+    JOHN _and_ VIDA _go into the further room. The organ stops._
+    SIR WILFRID _and_ CYNTHIA _are practically alone in the
+    room._ JOHN _and_ VIDA _are barely within sight. He is first
+    seen to take her fan and give her air; then to pick up a book
+    and read to her._
+
+SIR WILFRID. I've come back.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_To_ SIR WILFRID.] Asks for air and goes to the greenhouse.
+[CYNTHIA _crosses the room and_ SIR WILFRID _offers her a seat._] I
+know why you are here. It's that intoxicating little whim you suppose
+me to have for you. My regrets! But the whim's gone flat! Yes, yes, my
+gasoline days are over. I'm going to be garaged for good. However, I'm
+glad you're here; you take the edge off--
+
+SIR WILFRID. Mr. Phillimore?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Sharply._] No, Karslake. I'm just waiting to say the words
+[THOMAS _comes in unnoticed._] "love, honour and obey" to
+Phillimore-- [_Looking back._] and _at_ Karslake! [_Seeing_ THOMAS.]
+What is it? Mr. Phillimore?
+
+THOMAS. Mr. Phillimore will be down in a few minutes, ma'am. He's very
+sorry, ma'am [_Lowering his voice and coming nearer to_ CYNTHIA,
+_mindful of the respectabilities_], but there's a button off his
+waistcoat.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Rising. With irony._] Button off his waistcoat!
+
+            [THOMAS _goes out._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Delightedly._] Ah! So much the better for me. [CYNTHIA
+_looks into the other room._] Now, then, never mind those two!
+[CYNTHIA _moves restlessly._] Sit down.
+
+CYNTHIA. I can't.
+
+SIR WILFRID. You're as nervous as--
+
+CYNTHIA. Nervous! Of course I'm nervous! So would you be nervous if
+you'd had a runaway and smash up, and you were going to try it again.
+[_She is unable to take her eyes from_ VIDA _and_ JOHN, _and_ SIR
+WILFRID, _noting this, grows uneasy._] And if some one doesn't do away
+with those calla lilies--the odor makes me faint! [SIR WILFRID
+_moves._] No, it's not the lilies! It's the orange blossoms!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Orange blossoms.
+
+CYNTHIA. The flowers that grow on the tree that hangs over the abyss!
+[SIR WILFRID _promptly confiscates the vase of orange blossoms._] They
+smell of six o'clock in the evening. When Philip's fallen asleep, and
+little boys are crying the winners outside, and I'm crying inside, and
+dying inside and outside and everywhere.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Returning to her side._] Sorry to disappoint you.
+They're artificial. [CYNTHIA _shrugs her shoulders._] That's it!
+They're emblematic of artificial domesticity! And I'm here to help you
+balk it. [_He sits down and_ CYNTHIA _half rises and looks toward_
+JOHN _and_ VIDA.] Keep still now, I've a lot to say to you. Stop
+looking--
+
+CYNTHIA. Do you think I can listen to you make love to me when the man
+who--who--whom I most despise in all the world, is reading poetry to
+the woman who--who got me into the fix I'm in!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Leaning over her chair._] What do you want to look at
+'em for? [CYNTHIA _moves._] Let 'em be and listen to me! Sit down; for
+damme, I'm determined.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Now at the table and half to herself._] I won't look at
+them! I won't think of them. Beasts! [SIR WILFRID _interposes between
+her and her view of_ JOHN. THOMAS _opens the door and walks in._
+
+SIR WILFRID. Now, then-- [_He sits down._
+
+CYNTHIA. Those two _here_! It's just as if Adam and Eve should invite
+the snake to their golden wedding. [_Seeing_ THOMAS.] What is it,
+what's the matter?
+
+THOMAS. Mr. Phillimore's excuses, ma'am. In a very short time--
+[THOMAS _goes out._
+
+SIR WILFRID. I'm on to you! You hoped for more buttons!
+
+CYNTHIA. I'm dying of the heat; fan me.
+
+            [SIR WILFRID _fans_ CYNTHIA.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Heat! No! You're dying because you're ignorin' nature.
+Certainly you are! You're marryin' Phillimore! [CYNTHIA _appears
+faint._] Can't ignore nature, Mrs. Karslake. Yes, you are; you're
+forcin' your feelin's. [CYNTHIA _glances at him._] And what you want
+to do is to let yourself go a bit--up anchor and sit tight! I'm no
+seaman, but that's the idea! [CYNTHIA _moves and shakes her head._] So
+just throw the reins on nature's neck, jump this fellow Phillimore and
+marry me!
+
+            [_He leans toward_ CYNTHIA.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Naturally, but with irritation._] You propose to me here,
+at a moment like this? When I'm on the last lap--just in sight of the
+goal--the gallows--the halter--the altar, I don't know what its name
+is! No, I won't have you! [_Looking toward_ KARSLAKE _and_ VIDA.] And
+I won't have you stand near me! I won't have you talking to me in a
+low tone! [_Her eyes glued on_ JOHN _and_ VIDA.] Stand over
+there--stand where you are.
+
+SIR WILFRID. I say--
+
+CYNTHIA. I can hear you--I'm listening!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Well, don't look so hurried and worried. You've got
+buttons and buttons of time. And now my offer. You haven't yet said
+you would--
+
+CYNTHIA. Marry you? I don't even know you!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Feeling sure of being accepted._] Oh,--tell you all
+about myself. I'm no duke in a pickle o' debts, d'ye see? I can marry
+where I like. Some o' my countrymen are rotters, ye know. They'd marry
+a monkey, if poppa-up-the-tree had a corner in cocoanuts! And they do
+marry some queer ones, y' know. [CYNTHIA _looks beyond him, exclaims
+and turns._ SIR WILFRID _turns._
+
+CYNTHIA. Do they?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, rather. That's what's giving your heiresses such a
+bad name lately. If a fellah's in debt he can't pick and choose, and
+then he swears that American gals are awfully fine lookers, but
+they're no good when it comes to continuin' the race! Fair dolls in
+the drawin'-room, but no good in the nursery.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Thinking of_ JOHN _and_ VIDA _and nothing else._] I can see
+Vida in the nursery.
+
+SIR WILFRID. You understand when you want a brood mare, you don't
+choose a Kentucky mule.
+
+CYNTHIA. I think I see one.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Well, that's what they're saying over there. They say
+your gals run to talk [_He plainly remembers_ VIDA'S _volubility._]
+and I have seen gals here that would chat life into a wooden Indian!
+That's what you Americans call being clever.--All brains and no
+stuffin'! In fact, some of your American gals are the nicest boys I
+ever met.
+
+CYNTHIA. So that's what you think?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Not a bit what _I_ think--what my countrymen think!
+
+CYNTHIA. Why are you telling me?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Oh, just explaining my character. I'm the sort that can
+pick and choose--and what I want is heart.
+
+CYNTHIA. [VIDA _and_ JOHN _ever in mind._] No more heart than a
+dragon-fly! [_The organ begins to play softly._
+
+SIR WILFRID. That's it, dragon-fly. Cold as stone and never stops
+buzzing about and showin' off her colours. It's that American
+dragon-fly girl that I'm afraid of, because, d'ye see, I don't know
+what an American expects when he marries; yes, but you're not
+listening!
+
+CYNTHIA. I am listening. I am!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Speaking directly to her._] An Englishman, ye see, when
+he marries expects three things: love, obedience, and five children.
+
+CYNTHIA. Three things! I make it seven!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Yes, my dear, but the point is, will you be mistress of
+Traynham?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Who has only half listened to him._] No, Sir Wilfrid, thank
+you, I won't. [_She turns to see_ JOHN _walk across the drawing-room
+with_ VIDA, _and apparently absorbed in what she is saying._] It's
+outrageous!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Eh? Why you're cryin'?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Almost sobbing._] I am not.
+
+SIR WILFRID. You're not crying because you're in love with me?
+
+CYNTHIA. I'm not crying--or if I am, I'm crying because I love my
+country. It's a disgrace to America--cast-off husbands and wives
+getting together in a parlour and playing tag under a palm-tree.
+[JOHN, _with intention and determined to stab_ CYNTHIA, _kisses_
+VIDA'S _hand._
+
+SIR WILFRID. Eh! Oh! I'm damned! [_To_ CYNTHIA.] What do you think
+that means?
+
+CYNTHIA. I don't doubt it means a wedding here, at once--after mine!
+[VIDA _and_ JOHN _leave the drawing-room and walk slowly toward
+them._
+
+VIDA. [_Affecting an impossible intimacy to wound_ CYNTHIA _and
+tantalize_ SIR WILFRID.] Hush, Jack--I'd much rather no one should
+know anything about it until it's all over!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Starting and looking at_ SIR WILFRID.] What did I tell you?
+
+VIDA. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Oh, my dear, he's asked me to champagne and
+lobster at _your_ house--his house! Matthew is coming! [CYNTHIA
+_starts, but controls herself._] And you're to come, Sir Wilfrid.
+[_Intending to convey the idea of a sudden marriage ceremony._] Of
+course, my dear, I would like to wait for your wedding, but something
+rather--rather important to me is to take place, and I know you'll
+excuse me. [_The organ stops._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Piqued at being forgotten._] All very neat, but you
+haven't given me a chance, even.
+
+VIDA. Chance? You're not serious?
+
+SIR WILFRID. I am!
+
+VIDA. [_Striking while the iron is hot._] I'll give you a minute to
+offer yourself.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Eh?
+
+VIDA. Sixty seconds from now.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Uncertain._] There's such a thing as bein' silly.
+
+VIDA. [_Calm and determined._] Fifty seconds left.
+
+SIR WILFRID. I take you--count fair. [_He hands her his watch and goes
+to where_ CYNTHIA _stands._] I say, Mrs. Karslake--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Overwhelmed with grief and emotion._] They're engaged;
+they're going to be married to-night, over champagne and lobster at my
+house!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Will you consider your--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Hastily, to get rid of him._] No, no, no, no! Thank you,
+Sir Wilfrid, I will not.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Calm, and not to be laid low._] Thanks awfully.
+[CYNTHIA _walks away. Returning to_ VIDA.] Mrs. Phillimore--
+
+VIDA. [_Returning his watch._] Too late! [_To_ KARSLAKE.] Jack, dear,
+we must be off.
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Standing and making a general appeal for information._]
+I say, is it the custom for American girls--that sixty seconds or too
+late? Look here! Not a bit too late. I'll take you around to Jack
+Karslake's, and I'm going to ask you the same old question again, you
+know. [_To_ VIDA.] By Jove, you know in your country it's the pace
+that kills.
+
+            [SIR WILFRID _follows_ VIDA _out the door._
+
+JOHN. [_Gravely to_ CYNTHIA, _who has walked away._] Good-night, Mrs.
+Karslake, I'm going; I'm sorry I came.
+
+CYNTHIA. Sorry? Why are you sorry? [JOHN _looks at her; she winces a
+little._] You've got what you wanted. [_After a pause._] I wouldn't
+mind your marrying Vida--
+
+JOHN. [_Gravely._] Oh, wouldn't you?
+
+CYNTHIA. But I don't think you showed good taste in engaging
+yourselves _here_.
+
+JOHN. Of course, I should have preferred a garden of roses and plenty
+of twilight.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Rushing into speech._] I'll tell you what you _have_
+done--you've thrown yourself away! A woman like that! No head, no
+heart! All languor and loose--loose frocks--she's the typical, worst
+thing America can do! She's the regular American marriage worm!
+
+JOHN. I have known others--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Quickly._] Not me. I'm not a patch on that woman. Do you
+know anything about her life? Do you know the things she did to
+Philip? Kept him up every night of his life--forty days out of every
+thirty--and then, without his knowing it, put brandy in his coffee to
+make him lively at breakfast.
+
+JOHN. [_Banteringly._] I begin to think she is just the woman--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Unable to quiet her jealousy._] She is _not_ the woman for
+_you_! A man with your bad temper--your airs of authority--your
+assumption of--of--everything. What you need is a good, old-fashioned,
+bread-poultice woman!
+
+            [CYNTHIA _comes to a full stop and faces him._
+
+JOHN. [_Sharply._] Can't say I've had any experience of the good
+old-fashioned bread-poultice.
+
+CYNTHIA. I don't care what you say! If you marry Vida Phillimore--you
+sha'n't do it. [_Tears of rage choking her._] No, I liked your father
+and, for _his_ sake, I'll see that his son doesn't make a donkey of
+himself a second time.
+
+JOHN. [_Too angry to be amused._] Oh, I thought I was divorced. I
+begin to feel as if I had you on my hands still.
+
+CYNTHIA. You have! You shall have! If you attempt to marry her, I'll
+follow you--and I'll find her--I'll tell Vida-- [_He turns to her._] I
+will. I'll tell Vida just what sort of a dance you led me.
+
+JOHN. [_Quickly on her last word but speaking gravely._] Indeed! Will
+you? And why do you care what happens to me?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Startled by his tone._] I--I--ah--
+
+JOHN. [_Insistently and with a faint hope._] _Why_ do you _care_?
+
+CYNTHIA. I don't. Not in your sense--
+
+JOHN. How dare you then pretend--
+
+CYNTHIA. I don't pretend.
+
+JOHN. [_Interrupting her; proud, serious and strong._] How dare you
+look me in the face with the eyes that I once kissed, and pretend the
+least regard for me? [CYNTHIA _recoils and looks away. Her own
+feelings are revealed to her clearly for the first time._] I begin to
+understand our American women now. Fire-flies--and the fire they gleam
+with is so cold that a midge couldn't warm his heart at it, let alone
+a man. You're not of the same race as a man! You married me for
+nothing, divorced me for nothing, because you _are_ nothing!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Wounded to the heart._] Jack! What are you saying?
+
+JOHN. [_With unrestrained emotion._] What,--you feigning an interest
+in me, feigning a lie--and in five minutes-- [_With a gesture,
+indicating the altar._] Oh, you've taught me the trick of your
+sex--you're the woman who's not a woman!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Weakly._] You're saying terrible things to me.
+
+JOHN. [_Low and with intensity._] You haven't been divorced from me
+long enough to forget--what you should be ashamed to remember.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Unable to face him and pretending not to understand him._]
+I don't know what you mean?
+
+JOHN. [_More forcibly and with manly emotion._] You're not able to
+forget me! You know you're not able to forget me; ask yourself if you
+are able to forget me, and when your heart, such as it is, answers
+"no," then-- [_The organ is plainly heard._] Well, then, prance gaily
+up to the altar and marry that, if you can!
+
+    _He abruptly quits the room and_ CYNTHIA, _moving to an
+    armchair, sinks into it, trembling._ MATTHEW _comes in and is
+    joined by_ MISS HENEAGE _and_ PHILIP. _They do not see_
+    CYNTHIA _buried deeply in her chair. Accordingly_, MISS
+    HENEAGE _moves over to the sofa and waits. They are all
+    dressed for an evening reception and_ PHILIP _is in the
+    traditional bridegroom's rig._
+
+MATTHEW. [_As he enters._] I am sure you will do your part, Sarah--in
+a spirit of Christian decorum. [_To_ PHILIP.] It was impossible to
+find my surplice, Philip, but the more informal the better.
+
+PHILIP. [_With pompous responsibility._] Where's Cynthia?
+
+            [MATTHEW _gives a glance around the room._
+
+MATTHEW. Ah, here's the choir! [_He moves forward to meet it._ CHOIR
+BOYS _come in very orderly; divide and take their places, an even
+number on each side of the altar of flowers._ MATTHEW _vaguely
+superintends._ PHILIP _gets in the way of the bell and moves out of
+the way._ THOMAS _comes in._] Thomas, I directed you--One moment, if
+you please. [_He indicates the tables and chairs which_ THOMAS
+_hastens to push against the wall._
+
+PHILIP. [_Walking forward and looking around him._] Where's Cynthia?
+[CYNTHIA _rises, and, at the movement_, PHILIP _sees her and moves
+toward her. The organ grows suddenly silent._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Faintly._] Here I am.
+
+            [MATTHEW _comes down. Organ plays softly._
+
+MATTHEW. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Ah, my very dear Cynthia, I knew there was
+something. Let me tell you the words of the hymn I have chosen:
+
+    "Enduring love; sweet end of strife!
+    Oh, bless this happy man and wife!"
+
+I'm afraid you feel--eh--eh!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Desperately calm._] I feel awfully queer--I think I need a
+scotch.
+
+    _Organ stops._ PHILIP _remains uneasily at a little
+    distance._ MRS. PHILLIMORE _and_ GRACE _enter back slowly, as
+    cheerfully as if they were going to hear the funeral service
+    read. They remain near the doorway._
+
+MATTHEW. Really, my dear, in the pomp and vanity--I mean--ceremony of
+this--this unique occasion, there should be sufficient exhilaration.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With extraordinary control._] But there isn't!
+
+            [_Feeling weak, she sits down._
+
+MATTHEW. I don't think my Bishop would approve of--eh--anything
+_before_!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Too agitated to know how much she is moved._] I feel very
+queer.
+
+MATTHEW. [_Piously sure that everything is for the best._] My dear
+child--
+
+CYNTHIA. However, I suppose there's nothing for it--now--but--to--to--
+
+MATTHEW. Courage!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Desperate and with a sudden explosion._] Oh, don't speak to
+me. I feel as if I'd been eating gunpowder, and the very first word of
+the wedding service would set it off!
+
+MATTHEW. My dear, your indisposition is the voice of nature. [CYNTHIA
+_speaks more rapidly and with growing excitement._ MATTHEW _makes a
+movement toward the_ CHOIR BOYS.
+
+CYNTHIA. Ah,--that's it--nature! [MATTHEW _shakes his head._] I've a
+great mind to throw the reins on nature's neck.
+
+PHILIP. Matthew! [_He moves to take his stand for the ceremony._
+
+MATTHEW. [_Looks at_ PHILIP. _To_ CYNTHIA.] Philip is ready. [PHILIP
+_comes forward and the organ plays the wedding march._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_To herself, as if at bay._] Ready? Ready? Ready?
+
+MATTHEW. Cynthia, you will take Miss Heneage's arm. [MISS HENEAGE
+_moves stiffly nearer to the table._] Sarah! [_He waves_ MISS HENEAGE
+_in the direction of_ CYNTHIA, _at which she advances a joyless step
+or two._ MATTHEW _goes over to give the choir a low direction._] Now
+please don't forget, my boys. When I raise my hands so, you begin,
+"Enduring love, sweet end of strife," etc. [CYNTHIA _has risen. On the
+table by which she stands is her long lace cloak._ MATTHEW _assumes
+sacerdotal importance and takes his position inside the altar of
+flowers._] Ahem! Philip! [_He signs to_ PHILIP _to take his
+position._] Sarah! [CYNTHIA _breathes fast, and supports herself
+against the table._ MISS HENEAGE, _with the silent air of a martyr,
+goes toward her and stands for a moment looking at her._] The ceremony
+will now begin.
+
+    _The organ plays Mendelssohn's wedding march._ CYNTHIA _turns
+    and faces_ MISS HENEAGE. MISS HENEAGE _slowly reaches_
+    CYNTHIA _and extends her hand in her readiness to lead the
+    bride to the altar._
+
+MISS HENEAGE. Mrs. Karslake!
+
+PHILIP. Ahem! [MATTHEW _walks forward two or three steps._ CYNTHIA
+_stands as if turned to stone._
+
+MATTHEW. My dear Cynthia. I request you--to take your place. [CYNTHIA
+_moves one or two steps as if to go up to the altar. She takes_ MISS
+HENEAGE'S _hand and slowly they walk toward_ MATTHEW.] Your husband to
+be--is ready, the ring is in my pocket. I have only to ask you
+the--eh--necessary questions,--and--eh--all will be blissfully over in
+a moment.
+
+            [_The organ grows louder._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_At this moment, just as she reaches_ PHILIP, _stops, faces
+round, looks him_, MATTHEW, _and the rest in the face, and cries out
+in despair._] Thomas! Call a hansom! [THOMAS _goes out, leaving the
+door open._ MISS HENEAGE _crosses the room quickly_; MRS. PHILLIMORE,
+_shocked into action, rises._ CYNTHIA _catches up her cloak from the
+table._ PHILIP _turns and_ CYNTHIA _comes forward and stops._] I
+can't, Philip--I can't. [_Whistle of hansom is heard off; the organ
+stops._] It is simply a case of throwing the reins on nature's
+neck--up anchor--and sit tight! [MATTHEW _moves to_ CYNTHIA.] Matthew,
+don't come near me! Yes, yes, I distrust you. It's your business, and
+you'd marry me if you could.
+
+PHILIP. [_Watching her in dismay as she throws on her cloak._] Where
+are you going?
+
+CYNTHIA. I'm going to Jack.
+
+PHILIP. What for?
+
+CYNTHIA. To stop his marrying Vida. I'm blowing a hurricane inside, a
+horrible, happy hurricane! I know myself--I know what's the matter
+with me. If I married you and Miss Heneage--what's the use of talking
+about it--he mustn't marry that woman. He sha'n't. [CYNTHIA _has now
+all her wraps on and walks toward the door rapidly. To_ PHILIP.]
+Sorry! So long! Good-night and see you later.
+
+    _Reaching the door, she goes out in blind haste and without
+    further ceremony._ MATTHEW, _in absolute amazement, throws up
+    his arms._ PHILIP _is rigid._ MRS. PHILLIMORE _sinks into a
+    chair._ MISS HENEAGE _stands supercilious and unmoved._
+    GRACE, _the same. The choir, at MATTHEW'S gesture, mistakes
+    it for the concerted signal, and bursts lustily into the
+    Epithalamis:_
+
+    "Enduring love--sweet end of strife!
+    Oh, bless this happy man and wife!"
+
+
+            CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+
+    SCENE. _The scene is laid in_ JOHN KARSLAKE'S _study and
+    smoking-room. There is a bay window on the left. A door on
+    the left leads to stairs and the front of the house, while a
+    door at the back leads to the dining-room. A fireplace and a
+    mantel are on the right. A bookcase contains law and sporting
+    books. On the wall is a full-length portrait of_ CYNTHIA.
+    _Nothing of this portrait is seen by audience except the gilt
+    frame and a space of canvas. A large table with writing
+    materials is littered over with law books, sporting books,
+    papers, pipes, crops, a pair of spurs, &c. A wedding ring
+    lies on it. There are three very low easy-chairs. The general
+    appearance of the room is extremely gay and garish in colour.
+    It has the easy confusion of a man's room. There is a small
+    table on which, lying open, is a woman's sewing-basket, and,
+    beside it, a piece of rich fancy work, as if a lady had just
+    risen from sewing. Laid on the further end of it are a lady's
+    gloves. On a chair-back is a lady's hat. It is a half hour
+    later than the close of Act III. Curtains are drawn over the
+    window. A lamp on the table is lighted, as are, too, the
+    various electric lights. One chair is conspicuously standing
+    on its head._
+
+    NOGAM _is busy at the larger table. The door into the
+    dining-room is half open._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Coming in from the dining-room._] Eh--what did you say
+your name was?
+
+NOGAM. Nogam, sir.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Nogam? I've been here thirty minutes. Where are the
+cigars? [NOGAM _motions to a small table near the entrance door._]
+Thank you. Nogam, Mr. Karslake was to have followed us here,
+immediately. [_He lights a cigar._
+
+NOGAM. Mr. Karslake just now 'phoned from his club [SIR WILFRID _walks
+toward the front of the room._], and he's on his way home, sir.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Nogam, why is that chair upside down?
+
+NOGAM. Our orders, sir.
+
+VIDA. [_Speaking as she comes in._] Oh, Wilfrid! [SIR WILFRID _turns._
+VIDA _coming slowly toward him._] I can't be left longer alone with
+the lobster! He reminds me too much of Phillimore!
+
+SIR WILFRID. Karslake's coming; stopped at his club on the way! [_To_
+NOGAM.] You haven't heard anything of Mrs. Karslake--?
+
+NOGAM. [_Surprised._] No, sir!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_In an aside to_ VIDA, _as they move right to appear to
+be out of_ NOGAM'S _hearing._] Deucedly odd, ye know--for the Reverend
+Matthew declared she left Phillimore's house before _he_ did,--and she
+told them she was coming here!
+
+            [NOGAM _evidently takes this in._
+
+VIDA. Oh, she'll turn up.
+
+SIR WILFRID. Yes, but I don't see how the Reverend Phillimore had the
+time to get here and make us man and wife, don't y' know--
+
+VIDA. Oh, Matthew had a fast horse and Cynthia a slow one--or she's a
+woman and changed her mind! Perhaps she's gone back and married
+Phillimore. And besides, dear, Matthew wasn't in the house four
+minutes and a half; only just long enough to hoop the hoop. [_She
+twirls her new wedding ring gently about her finger._] Wasn't it lucky
+he had a ring in his pocket?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Rather.
+
+VIDA. And are you aware, dear, that Phillimore bought and intended it
+for Cynthia? Do come [_Going toward the door through which she has
+just entered._], I'm desperately hungry! Whenever I'm married that's
+the effect it has! [VIDA _goes out and_ SIR WILFRID, _following, stops
+to talk to_ NOGAM.
+
+SIR WILFRID. We'll give Mr. Karslake ten minutes, Nogam. If he does
+not come then, you might serve supper.
+
+            [_He joins_ VIDA.
+
+NOGAM. [_To_ SIR WILFRID.] Yes, sir. [_The outside door opens and_
+FIDDLER _walks in._
+
+FIDDLER. [_Easy and business-like._] Hello, Nogam, where's the
+guv'nor? That mare's off her oats, and I've got to see him.
+
+NOGAM. He'll soon be here.
+
+FIDDLER. Who was the parson I met leaving the house?
+
+NOGAM. [_Whispering._] Sir Wilfrid and Mrs. Phillimore have a date
+with the guv'nor in the dining-room, and the reverend gentleman-- [_He
+makes a gesture as of giving an ecclesiastical blessing._
+
+FIDDLER. [_Amazed._] He hasn't spliced them? [NOGAM _assents._] He
+has? They're married? Never saw a parson could resist it!
+
+NOGAM. Yes, but I've got another piece of news for you. Who do you
+think the Rev. Phillimore expected to find _here_?
+
+FIDDLER. [_Proud of having the knowledge._] Mrs. Karslake? I saw her
+headed this way in a hansom with a balky horse only a minute ago. If
+she hoped to be in at the finish--
+
+            [Fiddler _is about to set the chair on its legs._
+
+NOGAM. [_Quickly._] Mr. Fiddler, sir, please to let it alone.
+
+FIDDLER. [_Putting the chair down in surprise._] Does it live on its
+blooming head?
+
+NOGAM. Don't you remember? _She_ threw it on its head when she left
+here, and he won't have it up. Ah, that's it--hat, sewing-basket and
+all,--the whole rig is to remain as it was when she handed him his
+knock-out. [_A bell rings outside._
+
+FIDDLER. There's the guv'nor--I hear him!
+
+NOGAM. I'll serve the supper. [_Taking a letter from his pocket and
+putting it on the mantel._] Mr. Fiddler, would you mind giving this to
+the guv'nor? It's from his lawyer--his lawyer couldn't find him and
+left it with me. He said it was very important. [_The bell rings
+again. Speaking from the door to_ SIR WILFRID.] I'm coming, sir!
+
+    NOGAM _goes out, shutting the door._ JOHN KARSLAKE _comes in.
+    His hat is pushed over his eyes; his hands are buried in his
+    pockets, and his appearance generally is one of weariness and
+    utter discouragement. He walks into the room slowly and
+    heavily. He sees_ FIDDLER, _who salutes, forgetting the
+    letter._ JOHN _slowly sinks into the arm-chair near his study
+    table._
+
+JOHN. [_As he walks to his chair._] Hello, Fiddler! [_After a pause,_
+JOHN _throws himself into a chair, keeping his hat on. He throws down
+his gloves, sighing._
+
+FIDDLER. Came in to see you, sir, about Cynthia K.
+
+JOHN. [_Drearily._] Damn Cynthia K!--
+
+FIDDLER. Couldn't have a word with you?
+
+JOHN. [_Grumpy._] No!
+
+FIDDLER. Yes, sir.
+
+JOHN. Fiddler.
+
+FIDDLER. Yes, sir.
+
+JOHN. Mrs. Karslake-- [FIDDLER _nods._] You used to say she was our
+mascot?
+
+FIDDLER. Yes, sir.
+
+JOHN. Well, she's just married herself to a--a sort of a man--
+
+FIDDLER. Sorry to hear it, sir.
+
+JOHN. Well, Fiddler, between you and me, we're a pair of idiots.
+
+FIDDLER. Yes, sir!
+
+JOHN. And now it's too late!
+
+FIDDLER. Yes, sir--oh, beg your pardon, sir--your lawyer left a
+letter. [JOHN _takes letter; opens it and reads it, indifferently at
+first._
+
+JOHN. [_As he opens the letter._] What's he got to say, more than what
+his wire said?--Eh-- [_Dumbfounded as he reads._] what?--Will
+explain.--Error in wording of telegram.--Call me up.-- [_Turning
+quickly to the telephone._] The man can't mean that she's
+still--Hello! Hello! [JOHN _listens._
+
+FIDDLER. Would like to have a word with you, sir--
+
+JOHN. Hello, Central!
+
+FIDDLER. That mare--
+
+JOHN. [_Consulting the letter, and speaking into the 'phone._] 33246a
+38! Did you get it?
+
+FIDDLER. That mare, sir, she's got a touch of malaria--
+
+JOHN. [_At the 'phone._] Hello, Central--33246a--38!--Clayton
+Osgood--yes, yes, and say, Central--get a move on you!
+
+FIDDLER. If you think well of it, sir, I'll give her a tonic--
+
+JOHN. [_Still at the 'phone._] Hello! Yes--yes--Jack Karslake. Is that
+you, Clayton? Yes--yes--well--
+
+FIDDLER. Or if you like, sir, I'll give her--
+
+JOHN. [_Turning on_ FIDDLER.] Shut up! [_To 'phone._] What was that?
+Not you--not you--a technical error? You mean to say that Mrs.
+Karslake is still--my--Hold the wire, Central--get off the wire! Get
+off the wire! Is that you, Clayton? Yes, yes--she and I are still--I
+got it! Good-bye! [_He hangs up the receiver; falls back into a chair.
+For a moment he is overcome. He takes up telephone book._
+
+FIDDLER. All very well, Mr. Karslake, but I must know if I'm to give
+her--
+
+JOHN. [_Turning over the leaves of the telephone book in hot haste._]
+What's Phillimore's number?
+
+FIDDLER. If you've no objections, I think I'll give her a--
+
+JOHN. L--M--N--O--P--It's too late! She's married by this!
+Married!--and--my God--I--I am the cause. Phillimore--
+
+FIDDLER. I'll give her--
+
+JOHN. Give her wheatina!--give her grape-nuts--give her away!
+[FIDDLER, _biding his time, walks toward the window._] Only be quiet!
+Phillimore!
+
+            [SIR WILFRID _comes in._
+
+SIR WILFRID. Hello! We'd almost given you up!
+
+JOHN. [_In his agitation unable to find_ Phillimore's _number._] Just
+a moment! I'm trying to get Phillimore on the 'phone to--to tell Mrs.
+Karslake--
+
+SIR WILFRID. No good, my boy--she's on her way here! [JOHN _drops the
+book and looks up dumbfounded._] The Reverend Matthew was here, y'
+see--and he said--
+
+JOHN. [_Rising, turns._] Mrs. Karslake is coming here? [SIR WILFRID
+_nods._] To this house? Here?
+
+SIR WILFRID. That's right.
+
+JOHN. Coming here? You're sure? [SIR WILFRID _nods assent._] Fiddler,
+I want you to stay here, and if Mrs. Karslake comes, don't fail to let
+me know! Now then, for heaven's sake, what did Matthew say to you?
+
+SIR WILFRID. Come along in and I'll tell you.
+
+JOHN. On your life now, Fiddler, don't fail to let me--
+
+            [SIR WILFRID _carries_ JOHN _off with him._
+
+VIDA. [_From the dining-room._] Ah, here you are!
+
+FIDDLER. Phew!
+
+    _A moment's pause, and_ CYNTHIA _opens the front door, and
+    comes in very quietly, almost shyly, as if she were uncertain
+    of her welcome._
+
+CYNTHIA. Fiddler! Where is he? Has he come? Is he here? Has he gone?
+
+FIDDLER. [_Rattled._] Nobody's gone, ma'am, except the Reverend
+Matthew Phillimore.
+
+CYNTHIA. Matthew? He's been here and gone? [FIDDLER _nods assent._]
+You don't mean I'm too late? He's married them already?
+
+FIDDLER. Nogam says he married them!
+
+CYNTHIA. He's married them! Married! Married before I could get here!
+[_Sinking into an armchair._] Married in less time than it takes to
+pray for rain! Oh, well, the church--the church is a regular quick
+marriage counter. [VIDA _and_ JOHN _are heard in light-hearted
+laughter._] Oh!
+
+FIDDLER. I'll tell Mr. Karslake--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Rising and going to the dining-room door, turns the key in
+the lock and takes it out._] No--I wouldn't see him for the world!
+[_Moving to the work-table with the key._] If I'm too late, I'm too
+late! and that's the end of it! [_Laying the key on the table, she
+remains standing near it._] I've come, and now I'll go! [_There is a
+long pause during which_ CYNTHIA _looks slowly about the room, then
+sighs and changes her tone._] Well, Fiddler, it's all a good deal as
+it used to be in my day.
+
+FIDDLER. No, ma'am--everything changed, even the horses.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Absent-mindedly._] Horses--how are the horses?
+
+    [_Throughout her talk with_ Fiddler _she gives the idea that
+    she is saying good-bye to her life with_ JOHN.
+
+FIDDLER. Ah, when husband and wife splits, ma'am, it's the horses that
+suffer. Oh, yes, ma'am, we're all changed since you give us the
+go-by,--even the guv'nor.
+
+CYNTHIA. How's he changed?
+
+FIDDLER. Lost his sharp for horses, and ladies, ma'am--gives 'em both
+the boiled eye.
+
+CYNTHIA. I can't say I see any change; there's my portrait--I suppose
+he sits and pulls faces at me.
+
+FIDDLER. Yes, ma'am, I think I'd better tell him of your bein' here.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Gently but decidedly._] No, Fiddler, no! [_Again looking
+about her._] The room's in a terrible state of disorder. However, your
+new mistress will attend to that. [_Pause._] Why, that's not her hat!
+
+FIDDLER. Yours, ma'am.
+
+CYNTHIA. Mine? [_Walking to the table to look at it._] Is that my
+work-basket? [_After a pause._] My gloves? [FIDDLER _assents._] And I
+suppose-- [_Hurriedly going to the writing-table._] My--yes, there it
+is: my wedding ring!--just where I dropped it! Oh, oh, oh, he keeps it
+like this--hat, gloves, basket and ring, everything just as it was
+that crazy, mad day when I-- [_She glances at_ FIDDLER _and breaks
+off._] But for heaven's sake, Fiddler, set that chair on its feet!
+
+FIDDLER. Against orders, ma'am.
+
+CYNTHIA. Against orders?
+
+FIDDLER. You kicked it over, ma'am, the day you left us.
+
+CYNTHIA. No wonder he hates me with the chair in that state! He nurses
+his wrath to keep it warm. So, after all, Fiddler, everything _is_
+changed, and that chair is the proof of it. I suppose Cynthia K is
+the only thing in the world that cares a whinney whether I'm alive or
+dead. [_She breaks down and sobs._] How is she, Fiddler?
+
+FIDDLER. Off her oats, ma'am, this evening.
+
+CYNTHIA. Off her oats! Well, she loves me, so I suppose she will die,
+or change, or--or something. Oh, she'll die, there's no doubt about
+that--she'll die. [FIDDLER, _who has been watching his chance, takes
+the key off the table while she is sobbing, tiptoes up stage, unlocks
+the door and goes out. After he has done so_, CYNTHIA _rises and dries
+her eyes._] There--I'm a fool--I must go--before--before--he--
+
+            [_As she speaks her last word_, JOHN _comes in swiftly._
+
+JOHN. Mrs. Karslake!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Confused._] I--I--I just heard Cynthia K was ill-- [JOHN
+_assents._ CYNTHIA _tries to put on a cheerful and indifferent
+manner._] I--I ran round--I--and--and-- [_Pausing, she turns and takes
+a few steps._] Well, I understand it's all over.
+
+JOHN. [_Cheerfully._] Yes, it's all over.
+
+CYNTHIA. How is the bride?
+
+JOHN. Oh, she's a wonder.
+
+CYNTHIA. Indeed! Did she paw the ground like the war-horse in the
+Bible? I'm sure when Vida sees a wedding ring she smells the battle
+afar off. As for you, my dear Karslake, I should have thought once
+bitten, twice shy! But, you know best.
+
+    VIDA, _unable to keep her finger long out of a pie, saunters
+    in._
+
+VIDA. Oh, Cynthia, I've just been through it again, and I feel as if I
+were eighteen. There's no use talking about it, my dear, with a woman
+it's never the second time! And how nice you were, Jack,--he never
+even laughed at us! [SIR WILFRID _follows her with hat and cane._ VIDA
+_kisses_ JOHN.] That's the wages of virtue!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_In time to see her kiss_ JOHN.] I say, is it the
+custom? Every time she does that, my boy, you owe me a thousand
+pounds. [_Seeing_ CYNTHIA, _who approaches them, he looks at her and_
+JOHN _in turn._] Mrs. Karslake. [_To_ JOHN.] And then you say it's not
+an extraordinary country!
+
+            [CYNTHIA _is more and more puzzled._
+
+VIDA. [_To_ JOHN.] See you next Derby, Jack! [_Walking to the door.
+To_ SIR WILFRID.] Come along, Wilfrid! We really ought to be going.
+[_To_ CYNTHIA.] I hope, dear, you haven't married him! Phillimore's a
+tomb! Good-bye, Cynthia--I'm so happy! [_As she goes._] Just think of
+the silly people, dear, that only have this sensation once in a
+lifetime!
+
+            [JOHN _follows_ VIDA _out the door._
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Good-bye, Mrs. Karslake. And I say, ye
+know, if you have married that dull old Phillimore fellah, why, when
+you've divorced him, come over and stay at Traynham! I mean, of
+course, ye know, bring your new husband. There'll be lots o' horses to
+show you, and a whole covey of jolly little Cates-Darbys. Mind you
+come! [_With real delicacy of feeling and forgetting his wife._] Never
+liked a woman as much in my life as I did you!
+
+VIDA. [_Outside; calling him._] Wilfrid, dear!
+
+SIR WILFRID. [_Loyal to the woman who has caught him._] --except the
+one that's calling me!
+
+    JOHN _returns, and_ SIR WILFRID, _nodding to him, goes out._
+    JOHN _shuts the door and crosses the room. There is a pause._
+
+CYNTHIA. So you're not married?
+
+JOHN. No. But I know that you imagined I was.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_After a pause._] I suppose you think a woman has no right
+to divorce a man--and still continue to feel a keen interest in his
+affairs?
+
+JOHN. Well, I'm not so sure about that, but I don't quite see how--
+
+CYNTHIA. A woman can be divorced--and still-- [JOHN _assents; she hides
+her embarrassment._] Well, my dear Karslake, you've a long life before
+you, in which to learn how such a state of mind is possible! So I
+won't stop to explain. Will you be kind enough to get me a cab? [_She
+moves to the door._
+
+JOHN. Certainly. I was going to say I am not surprised at your feeling
+an interest in me. I'm only astonished that, having actually married
+Phillimore, you come here--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Indignantly._] I'm not married to him!
+
+JOHN. [_Silent for a moment._] I left you on the brink--made me feel a
+little uncertain.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_In a matter of course tone._] I changed my mind--that's
+all.
+
+JOHN. [_Taking his tone from her._] Of course. [_After an interval._]
+Are you going to marry him?
+
+CYNTHIA. I don't know.
+
+JOHN. Does he know you--
+
+CYNTHIA. I told him I was coming here.
+
+JOHN. Oh! He'll turn up here, then--eh? [CYNTHIA _is silent._] And
+you'll go back with him, I suppose?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Talking at random._] Oh--yes--I suppose so. I--I haven't
+thought much about it.
+
+JOHN. [_Changing his tone._] Well, sit down; do. Till he comes--talk
+it over. [_He places the armchair more comfortably for her._] This is
+a more comfortable chair!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Shamefacedly._] You never liked me to sit in that one!
+
+JOHN. Oh, well--it's different now. [CYNTHIA _moves and sits down,
+near the upset chair. There is a long pause, during which_ JOHN
+_thoughtfully paces the room._] You don't mind if I smoke?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Shaking her head._] No.
+
+JOHN. [_Lighting his pipe and sitting down on the arm of a chair._] Of
+course, if you find my presence painful, I'll--skiddoo.
+
+    _He indicates the door._ CYNTHIA _shakes her head._ JOHN
+    _smokes his pipe and remains seated._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Suddenly and quickly._] It's just simply a fact, Karslake,
+and that's all there is to it--if a woman has once been married--that
+is, the first man she marries--then--she may quarrel, she may hate
+him--she may despise him--but she'll always be jealous of him with
+other women. Always! [JOHN _takes this as if he were simply glad to
+have the information._
+
+JOHN. Oh--H'm! ah--yes--yes.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_After a pause._] You probably felt jealous of Phillimore.
+
+JOHN. [_Reasonably, sweetly, and in doubt._] N-o! [_Apologetically._]
+I felt simply: Let him take his medicine.
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh!
+
+JOHN. I beg your pardon--I meant--
+
+CYNTHIA. You meant what you said!
+
+JOHN. [_Moving a step toward her._] Mrs. Karslake; I apologize--I
+won't do it again. But it's too late for you to be out alone--Philip
+will be here in a moment--and of course, then--
+
+CYNTHIA. It isn't what you _say_--it's--it's--it's everything. It's
+the entire situation. Suppose by any chance I don't marry Phillimore!
+And suppose I were seen at two or three in the morning leaving my
+former husband's house! It's all wrong. I have no business to be here!
+I'm going! You're perfectly horrid to me, you know--and--the whole
+place--it's so familiar, and so--so associated with--with--
+
+JOHN. Discord and misery--I know--
+
+CYNTHIA. Not at all with discord and misery! With harmony and
+happiness--with--with first love, and infinite hope--and--and--Jack
+Karslake,--if you don't set that chair on its legs, I think I'll
+explode. [JOHN _crosses the room rapidly, and sets the chair on its
+legs. His tone changes._
+
+JOHN. [_While setting chair on its legs._] There! I beg your pardon.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Nervously._] I believe I hear Philip. [_She rises._
+
+JOHN. [_Going up to the window._] N-o! That's the policeman trying the
+front door! And now, see here, Mrs. Karslake,--you're only here for a
+short minute, because you can't help yourself, but I want you to
+understand that I'm not trying to be disagreeable--I don't want to
+revive all the old unhappy--
+
+CYNTHIA. Very well, if you don't--give me my hat. [JOHN _does so._]
+And my sewing! And my gloves, please! [_She indicates the several
+articles which lie on the small table._] Thanks! [CYNTHIA _throws the
+lot into the fireplace, and returns to the place she has left near
+table._] There! I feel better! And now--all I ask is--
+
+JOHN. [_Laughing._] My stars, what a pleasure it is!
+
+CYNTHIA. What is?
+
+JOHN. Seeing you in a whirlwind!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Wounded by his seeming indifference._] Oh!
+
+JOHN. No, but I mean, a real pleasure! Why not? Time's passed since
+you and I were together--and--eh--
+
+CYNTHIA. And you've forgotten what a vile temper I had!
+
+JOHN. [_Reflectively._] Well, you did kick the stuffing out of the
+matrimonial buggy--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Pointedly but with good temper._] It wasn't a buggy; it was
+a break cart-- [_She stands back of the arm-chair._] It's all very well
+to blame me! But when you married me, I'd never had a bit in my mouth!
+
+JOHN. Well, I guess I had a pretty hard hand. Do you remember the time
+you threw both your slippers out of the window?
+
+CYNTHIA. Yes, and do you remember the time you took my fan from me by
+force?
+
+JOHN. After you slapped my face with it!
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh, oh! I hardly touched your face! And do you remember the
+day you held my wrists?
+
+JOHN. You were going to bite me!
+
+CYNTHIA. Jack! I never! I showed my teeth at you! And I _said_ I would
+bite you!
+
+JOHN. Cynthia, I never knew you to break your word! [_He laughs.
+Casually._] And anyhow--they were awfully pretty teeth! [CYNTHIA,
+_though bolt upright, has ceased to seem pained._] And I say--do you
+remember, Cyn--
+
+            [_He leans over her armchair to talk._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_After a pause._] You oughtn't to call me "Cyn"--it's not
+nice of you. It's sort of cruel. I'm not--Cyn to you now.
+
+JOHN. Awfully sorry; didn't mean to be beastly, Cyn. [CYNTHIA _turns
+quickly._ JOHN _stamps his foot._] Cynthia! Sorry. I'll make it a
+commandment: thou shalt not Cyn!!
+
+            [CYNTHIA _laughs and wipes her eyes._
+
+CYNTHIA. How can you, Jack? How can you?
+
+JOHN. Well, hang it, my dear child, I--I'm sorry, but you know I
+always got foolish with you. Your laugh'd make a horse laugh. Why,
+don't you remember that morning in the park before breakfast--when you
+laughed so hard your horse ran away with you!
+
+CYNTHIA. I do, I do! [_Both laugh. The door opens and_ NOGAM _comes
+in, unnoticed by either._] But what was it started me laughing?
+[_Laughing, she sits down and laughs again._] That morning. Wasn't it
+somebody we met? [_Laughing afresh._] Wasn't it a man on a horse? [_As
+her memory pieces the picture, she again goes off into laughter._
+
+JOHN. [_Laughing too._] Of course! You didn't know him in those days!
+But I did! And he looked a sight in the saddle!
+
+    [NOGAM, _trying to catch their attention, moves toward the
+    table._
+
+CYNTHIA. Who was it?
+
+JOHN. Phillimore!
+
+CYNTHIA. He's no laughing matter now. [_Seeing_ NOGAM.] Jack, he's
+here!
+
+JOHN. Eh? Oh, Nogam?
+
+NOGAM. Mr. Phillimore, sir--
+
+JOHN. In the house?
+
+NOGAM. On the street in a hansom, sir--and he requests Mrs.
+Karslake--
+
+JOHN. That'll do, Nogam. [NOGAM _goes out and there is a pause._ JOHN,
+_on his way to the window, looks at_ CYNTHIA, _who has slowly risen
+and turned her back to him._] Well, Cynthia?
+
+            [_He speaks almost gravely and with finality._]
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Trembling._] Well?
+
+JOHN. It's the hour of decision; are you going to marry him?
+[_Pause._] Speak up!
+
+CYNTHIA. Jack,--I--I--
+
+JOHN. There he is--you can join him. [_He points to the street._
+
+CYNTHIA. Join Phillimore--and go home--with him--to his house, and
+Miss Heneage and--
+
+JOHN. The door's open. [_He points to the door._
+
+CYNTHIA. No, no! It's mean of you to suggest it!
+
+JOHN. You won't marry--
+
+CYNTHIA. Phillimore--no; never. [_Running to the window._] No; never,
+never, Jack.
+
+JOHN. [_Opening the window and calling out._] It's all right, Judge.
+You needn't wait.
+
+    _There is a pause._ JOHN _leaves the window and bursts into
+    laughter. He moves toward the door and closes it._ CYNTHIA
+    _looks dazed._
+
+CYNTHIA. Jack! [JOHN _laughs._] Yes, but I'm here, Jack.
+
+JOHN. Why not?
+
+CYNTHIA. You'll have to take me round to the Holland House!
+
+JOHN. Of course, I will! But, I say, Cynthia, there's no hurry.
+
+CYNTHIA. Why, I--I--can't stay here.
+
+JOHN. No, of course you can't stay here. But you can have a bite,
+though. [CYNTHIA _shakes her head._ JOHN _places the small chair,
+which was upset, next to the table, and the armchair close by._] Oh, I
+insist. Just look at yourself--you're as pale as a sheet and--here,
+here. Sit right down. I insist! By George, you must do it! [CYNTHIA
+_moves to the chair drawn up to the table, and sits down._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Faintly._] I _am_ hungry.
+
+JOHN. Just wait a moment.
+
+            [JOHN _rushes out, leaving the door open._
+
+CYNTHIA. I don't want more than a nibble! [_After a pause._] I am
+sorry to give you so much trouble.
+
+JOHN. No trouble at all. [_From the dining-room comes the cheerful
+noise of glasses and silver._] A hansom, of course, to take you round
+to your hotel? [_Speaking as he returns with a tray._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_To herself._] I wonder how I ever dreamed I could marry
+that man.
+
+JOHN. [_Now by the table._] Can't imagine! There!
+
+CYNTHIA. I am hungry. Don't forget the hansom.
+
+    [_She eats; he waits on her, setting this and that before
+    her._
+
+JOHN. [_Goes to the door, opens it and calls._] Nogam, a hansom at
+once.
+
+NOGAM. [_From without._] Yes, sir.
+
+JOHN. [_Again at the table, shows, and from now on continues to show,
+his true feelings for her._] How does it go?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Faintly._] It goes all right. Thanks!
+
+            [_Hardly eating at all._
+
+JOHN. You always used to like anchovy. [CYNTHIA _nods and eats._]
+Claret? [CYNTHIA _shakes her head._] Oh, but you must!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Tremulously._] Ever so little. [_He fills her glass and
+then his._] Thanks!
+
+JOHN. Here's to old times! [_Raising his glass._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Very tremulous._] Please not!
+
+JOHN. Well, here's to your next husband.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Very tenderly._] Don't!
+
+JOHN. Oh, well, then, what shall the toast be?
+
+CYNTHIA. I'll tell you-- [_After a pause._] you can drink to the
+relation I am to you!
+
+JOHN. [_Laughing._] Well--what relation are you?
+
+CYNTHIA. I'm your first wife once removed!
+
+JOHN. [_Laughing, drinks._] I say, you're feeling better.
+
+CYNTHIA. Lots.
+
+JOHN. [_Reminiscent._] It's a good deal like those mornings after the
+races--isn't it?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Nods._] Yes. [_Half-rising._] Is that the hansom?
+
+JOHN. [_Going up to the window._] No.
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Sitting down again._] What is that sound?
+
+JOHN. Don't you remember?
+
+CYNTHIA. No.
+
+JOHN. That's the rumbling of the early milk wagons.
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh, Jack.
+
+JOHN. Do you recognize it now?
+
+CYNTHIA. Do I? We used to hear that--just at the hour, didn't we--when
+we came back from awfully jolly late suppers and things!
+
+JOHN. H'm!
+
+CYNTHIA. It must be fearfully late. I must go.
+
+    _She rises and moves to the chair where she has left her
+    cloak. She sees that_ JOHN _will not help her and puts it on
+    herself._
+
+JOHN. Oh, don't go--why go?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Embarrassed and agitated._] All good things come to an end,
+you know.
+
+JOHN. They don't need to.
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh, you don't mean that! And, you know, Jack, if I were
+caught--seen at this hour, leaving this house, you know--it's the most
+scandalous thing any one ever did, my being here at all. Good-bye,
+Jack! [_After a pause and almost in tears._] I'd like to say,
+I--I--I--well, I sha'n't be bitter about you hereafter,
+and-- [_Halting._] Thank you awfully, old man, for the fodder and all
+that! [_She turns to go out._
+
+JOHN. Mrs. Karslake--wait--
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Stopping to hear._] Well?
+
+JOHN. [_Serious._] I've rather an ugly bit of news for you.
+
+CYNTHIA. Yes?
+
+JOHN. I don't believe you know that I have been testing the validity
+of the decree of divorce which you procured.
+
+CYNTHIA. Oh, have you?
+
+JOHN. Yes; you know I felt pretty warmly about it.
+
+CYNTHIA. Well?
+
+JOHN. Well, I've been successful. [_After a pause._] The decree's been
+declared invalid. Understand?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Looking at him for a moment; then speaking._]
+Not--precisely.
+
+JOHN. [_After a moment's silence._] I'm awfully sorry--I'm awfully
+sorry, Cynthia, but, you're my wife still.
+
+            [_There is a pause._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_With rapture._] Honour bright?
+
+            [_She sinks into the armchair._
+
+JOHN. [_Nods. Half laughingly._] Crazy country, isn't it?
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Nods. After an interval._] Well, Jack--what's to be done?
+
+JOHN. [_Gently._] Whatever you say.
+
+            [_He moves a few steps toward her._
+
+NOGAM. [_Quietly coming in._] Hansom, sir.
+
+            [_He goes out and_ CYNTHIA _rises._
+
+JOHN. Why don't you finish your supper?
+
+            [CYNTHIA _hesitates._
+
+CYNTHIA. The--the--hansom--
+
+JOHN. Why go to the Holland? After all--you know, Cyn, you're at home
+here.
+
+CYNTHIA. No, Jack, I'm not--I'm not at home here--unless--unless--
+
+JOHN. Out with it!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Bursting into tears._] Unless I--unless I'm at home in your
+heart, Jack!
+
+JOHN. What do you think?
+
+CYNTHIA. I don't believe you want me to stay.
+
+JOHN. Don't you?
+
+CYNTHIA. No, no, you hate me still. You never can forgive me. I know
+you can't. For I can never forgive myself. Never, Jack, never, never!
+
+            [_She sobs and he takes her in his arms._
+
+JOHN. [_Very tenderly._] Cyn! I love you! [_Strongly._] And you've got
+to stay! And hereafter you can chuck chairs around till all's blue!
+Not a word now.
+
+    [_He draws her gently to a chair._
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Wiping her tears._] Oh, Jack! Jack!
+
+JOHN. I'm as hungry as a shark. We'll nibble together.
+
+CYNTHIA. Well, all I can say is, I feel that of all the improprieties
+I ever committed this--this--
+
+JOHN. This takes the claret, eh? Oh, Lord, how happy I am!
+
+CYNTHIA. Now don't say that! You'll make me cry more.
+
+    _She wipes her eyes._ JOHN _takes out the wedding ring from
+    his pocket; he lifts a wine-glass, drops the ring into it and
+    offers her the glass._
+
+JOHN. Cynthia!
+
+CYNTHIA. [_Looking at it and wiping her eyes._] What is it?
+
+JOHN. Benedictine!
+
+CYNTHIA. Why, you know I never take it.
+
+JOHN. Take this one for my sake.
+
+CYNTHIA. That's not benedictine. [_With gentle curiosity._] What is
+it?
+
+JOHN. [_Slides the ring out of the glass and puts his arm about_
+CYNTHIA. _He slips the ring on to her finger and, as he kisses her
+hand, says_:] Your wedding ring!
+
+
+            CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Notes
+
+Page 614: Phillmore changed to Phillimore. (MISS HENEAGE. Thomas, Mr.
+Phillmore's sherry?) (THOMAS _gives the list to_ MRS. PHILLMORE _and
+moves away._)
+
+Page 654: entremely changed to extremely. ([JOHN _looks entremely dark
+and angry;_)
+
+Page 679: nad changed to and. (WILFRID _nad_ CYNTHIA _are practically
+alone_)
+
+Page 685: tradional changed to traditional. (in the tradional
+bridegroom's rig.)
+
+Page 691: couldn'. changed to couldn't (his lawyer couldn'. find him)
+
+Page 691: importantt changed to important. (He said it was very
+importantt)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Representative Plays by American
+Dramatists: 1856-1911: The New York Idea, by Langdon Mitchell
+
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